


Windfall

by sinemoras09



Series: Birdsong [4]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst and Fluff, Female Senju Hashirama, Fix-It, Genderswap, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Requited Unrequited Love, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 30,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23095915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinemoras09/pseuds/sinemoras09
Summary: A happy ending.  Sequel to the fic,Birdsong, AU alternate ending. Female Hashirama/Madara. Explicit content marked. Complete.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Series: Birdsong [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653751
Comments: 214
Kudos: 139
Collections: fffffffff





	1. Windfall

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate happy ending to the fic Birdsong. Written before the Madara-used-Izanagi reveal, around chapter 625.
> 
> 3/10/20 - I found this in my old WIP folder, but I never posted it. I quite like what I wrote, so I thought I'd post this now XD

It's raining when the sword slices through the meat of Madara's back, and Madara gasps, his eyes widening in shock as he sees the wood clone disintegrate in front of him. Hashi steps close, her grip on the hilt firm, and drives the sword forward.

He falls onto the ground gracelessly, the dead weight of his body dropping into the mud. Bright pools of blood mix with rainwater, coagulating into a thick paste, as Hashi dully steps closer.

His clothes are soaked. His hair is wet and sticking to the skin of his face. Hashi carefully pries her fingers around the stiff muscle of his arms, hefts up his torso until she's clutching him heavily against her chest.

And then she screams. Eyes squeezed, rain sluicing down her dirt-streaked face. She screams and sobs, agonized, holding his body and sobbing in the rain.

Her vision tunnels; she's lightheaded and lost too much blood. Her body sways woozily, until Madara's body rolls off her lap, and Hashi passes out in the mud.

*****

Everything is dark. Slowly she sits forward, blinking her eyes and letting herself get acclimated to the darkness. She's in some sort of cave, the cool rock dripping with precipitation. Her eyes widen.

Madara is sitting in the dark, watching her.

"If I wanted to kill you," he says, and he moves to a stand, "I already would have. You've been unconscious for at least a few hours, now."

He looks okay. His hair is tangled and there are scratches on his face, but other than the scuff marks on his clothes, everything is intact. Hashi swallows, her eyes filling with tears.

She starts to sob and throws her arms around him, making Madara step back, briefly losing his balance with her sudden weight. "Woman, what are you--"

"I'm so sorry!" Hashi sobs and hugs him, bawling into his neck. Madara's jaw tightens, unsettled. He places a firm hand against the back of her head.

"You have nothing to apologize for. I was the one who tried to kill you."

Hashi sniffs, then pulls back just enough to look at him. Her eyes are puffy and her nose is red. "I thought you died," Hashi says. She hiccups, blinking her eyes. "I stabbed you. How are you alive?"

Madara gently disentangles himself from her grasp. "You healed me," Madara says. "You were crying on top of me, and that ridiculous chakra of yours somehow seeped through your tears. It fused the hole in my chest."

"What...?" Hashi looks on, awestruck as Madara tugs down the collar of his shirt and shows her the wound, ugly raised bumps of scar tissue roughly fused together. Hashi steps forward and hesitantly lifts a hand. She touches the tips of her fingers to his chest, then pulls back. Eyes flicking upward, she looks up at him again before shyly touching the center of his chest.

He feels warm. She can feel it, the tortured eddies of his chakra smoothed over by her own. Madara waits a moment, then gently removes her hand.

"If you wish to finish," Madara says, and Hashi looks up at him. "I have no intention of fighting you until you've healed."

"I don't want to fight you," Hashi says. Madara sighs, sitting back against the corner.

She carefully approaches, then lowers herself next to him. Her body is tense, uncharacteristically timid. Madara looks up at her, then lowers his eyes, giving her permission, and all at once she curls up against him, hugging him and burrowing into his chest.

"You are entirely too trusting," Madara says. He speaks with a tenderness that's surprising. He rests his cheek against her hair.

They hold each other without saying anything more, Hashi resting her head against Madara's chest while Madara leans against her, and soon enough they're both dozing off. They're exhausted and emotionally spent, and being together like this is oddly comforting.

They drift in and out of sleep; somehow, they've changed positions in the course of the night, until they're lying on the stone floor, curled up against each other. The exhaustion of the day, the physical and emotional hurt they both carried into battle, drains out, until there's nothing but a tired, dull ache. She tucks herself against his body as he holds her, breathing deeply until they both fall asleep.

*****

This is what happened when Madara first came to consciousness.

It was surprisingly quiet: except for the sound of wind and the flapping frantic sound of torn banners, there was no sound, nothing but the half-gasped wheeze of Madara's breath as he lay on the ground. Around him, pieces of armor and other bits of detritus were strewn on the yellow grass, and as he lay on his back he dimly became aware of something lying on his chest.

Hashirama. Madara's eyes cracked open, crusted and painful, as his gaze slowly focused in on the woman lying passed out on top of him, her face pale and her breathing rapid and shallow. Her arms were around him, and he realized she had passed out crying on top of him.

He carried her into the cave, where he pulled off her armor and dressed her wounds. For all of Hashi's legendary healing, she was still covered in scratches and myriad bruises, body blows from their battle earlier.

She was so much smaller than him. He paused, the span of his hand curving around her bare waist, and he looked on at her with infinite tenderness. Stupid, stubborn woman. He gently brushed a strand of hair back from her face.

Their eyes grow powerful when they lose someone they love, and Madara slowly came to realize he was looking at the world through the bruised lens of the rinnegan. He took a breath, then dampened his chakra, the violet sclera receding until his eyes were normal, his dark brown irises almost black. He didn't want to think of the implications - that he awakened the rinnegan the moment Hashirama stabbed him - and instead he took his perch across from her in the cave, and waited.

*****

There is a thin trickle of light seeping through the mouth of the cave, and Hashi wakes, blinking slowly, her body stiff from sleeping in the same position. Gingerly, she pushes herself upright, stopping only to glance down at Madara's sleeping face. He's breathing deeply, his body warm and relaxed against hers, and Hashi leans back against him again, wrapping her arms around his chest. She's never felt more safe than she does like this, even though just the day before they tried killing each other in battle. She's never felt more at peace.

Will he fight her later? She doesn't want to. But if he threatens the village again, she'll have to.

"Are you awake?" he says, and she lifts her head.

"Sorry," she says. "Did I wake you?"

A nod, but he makes no motion to move, and so Hashi stays curled up against him, one leg curled over his hip and one arm draped on top of him. He shifts her weight, resting an arm across her back, and Hashi burrows her face into his neck, hugging him. "I could stay forever like this," Madara says. His voice is soft. Regretful.

"Come home," Hashi says. She leans on top of him. "Please."

"I have no home," Madara says, and Hashi looks at him sadly, resting her head against his chest and reaching up to stroke his hair. She thinks of their battle, and the ones to come, and her eyes grow shiny with tears.

"I don't want to hurt you," Hashi says, and a tear drips. Another one rolls down the side of her face. Madara touches her face.

"Moron," Madara says, and his voice is tender. "I should be insulted. You speak as if you've already bested me."

Hashi starts crying. Madara frowns, then holds her close, gently stroking her hair.

He shifts so they're sitting upright, Hashi curling in his lap while he holds her. He shushes her and strokes her hair, and it's only when she's hiccuping pathetically that he pulls back and gently wipes her eyes.

"What do we do now?" she asks, and her swollen eyes flick upward. Madara fans a thumb across her cheek, silently.

"There's nothing more I want than to raze that village to the ground," Madara says. "But if you were by my side, I could ignore it. Come with me," Madara says, and he searches Hashi's eyes. "Please."

Hashi sucks in her breath. Uchiha Madara is not one to beg.

She had fought him to protect their village. Now he's telling her he'd abandon his vendetta if she stayed with him. She thinks of Tobirama and the council, her responsibilities as Hokage, then looks back at Madara, meeting his eyes.

"Okay," Hashi says. She nods, swallowing thickly. "Okay."

She feels Madara's grip around her tighten.

He lunges forward and kisses her hard, a sudden, violent movement. Hashi's hands flutter uselessly before falling on his shoulders, gripping him for balance as he pushes her back. She's supine now, Madara kissing her hard and lying on top of her.

His mouth latches onto her neck, and Hashi gasps, panting. "Madara--"

"Idiot Senju." His voice is tight. His hips grind down against hers. "You don't know how long I've wanted this. What I'd give to have you."

Hashi's eyes flutter as his mouth snakes down to her collarbone, one calloused hand sliding up under her shirt.

He breathes raggedly against her mouth before kissing her again, his hands all over her body, hungry for contact. There's a shifting of clothes, a sudden feeling of cold, unforgiving rock, and then the blunt end of something pressing insistently at the wet seam between her legs, before he kisses her hard and pushes himself inside her.

Hashi cries out. She clutches his shoulders, the pain hot and white. Her thighs are shaking and her body is arched tight. She isn't even sure what's happening until Madara gently cradles her face, then kisses her softly.

"Madara?" His face is close. Her eyes open, meeting his.

Her legs are bare, but otherwise they're both still clothed except for the place where they're joined. She feels him throb inside her, and she exhales at the sensation.

Gently, he lowers his head and kisses her as if he's plucking at the seams of something delicate. He moves slowly, arms tight around her.

*****

Outside, the sky is overcast, and the valley is covered in a light rain.

Hashi moves slowly, sore in unfamiliar places, as if she had undergone training and used new muscle groups. Her wounds from their earlier battle have mostly healed; all that's left are the thumbprint bruises by her thighs, the dull scrape of teethmarks that had abraded her shoulder. He didn't mean to bite her - he came hard, pulsing and shuddering as he gasped and kissed her, momentarily losing his self-control.

The valley is a cratered wasteland, littered with bits of detritus while parts of charred earth are still smoldering with smoke. The villagers of Konoha would assume she's dead, but that she managed to kill Madara in the process. Hashi looks out, and wishes she could tell her brother what happened, where she's going. She wishes she could explain her decision.

Behind her, Madara is gathering up their packs, moving silently at the back of the cave.

"What are you thinking?" he says, and he comes to stand beside her. Wordlessly Hashi holds his hand, then turns her gaze back outward.

"I was looking at our village," Hashi says, and Madara looks out at the trees dotting the horizon, at the outskirts of the village he had a hand in creating.

"Your brother will be Hokage," Madara says. He looks out, silently. And then, "Someone should stay to make sure he doesn't harm the Uchiha," Madara says, finally. Hashi looks up at him.

"Are you thinking of coming back?" Hashi says. Hope in her voice. Madara frowns, grimly.

"I doubt they would have me," Madara says. "Even so, the ingrates in my clan would fare better if we were there, and our children would undoubtedly be much safer."

"Children?" Hashi squeals and throws her arms around him, making him stagger back.

"Woman, what are you--"

"We battled against each other earlier and now you're talking about having children!"

Madara gives a long-suffering sigh, then rests a hand in her hair.

"What will you tell them?" Madara asks. Hashi speaks into his neck.

"I'll tell him you threw a bunch of fireballs at me, and now we're getting married."

"I'm sure your brother will berate you for your idiocy."

Hashi smiles. "He probably will."


	2. Lovers (mature content)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff and non-explicit PIV sex.

In the dark mouth of the cave, he watches as Hashi moves slowly, gingerly stooping over to pack up her clothes. Earlier, they had cleaned themselves by the banks of the river, and he couldn't help but notice the blood-stained cloth lying in the long grass. He didn't say anything then. Now she moves as if the innermost parts of herself are sore and bruised, and Madara scowls at his inability to control himself.

"I shouldn't have been so rough on you," Madara says, and Hashi looks up, a shaft of light falling on her face. "It was your first time. I should have been more gentle."

Hashi furrows her brow. "That was hardly our first battle," Hashi says. She sheathes her sword on her back. "Even if it was the first time we fought without our armies, we've fought each other before."

Madara scowls. "I'm not talking about that," Madara says. He stuffs his weapons in his pack. "I'm talking about when--"

When we consummated our relationship, he wants to say, but the fact that he has to spell it out for her vexes him.

"...When you attacked me with the Kyuubi?"

"No, when--"

"When you armed him with your Susanoo?"

"When I took your virginity," Madara says, and Hashi stops to look at him. Madara scowls at a dirty patch on the cave wall while Hashi tilts her head. "I washed the blood off myself in the river," Madara says. A shadow falls over his eyes as he lowers his head. "I am honored. Any man would be lucky to have you."

Hashi looks at him. A rare moment of sincerity. His hair is covering his eyes, and he's scowling, not looking at her.

Hashi beams and scootches toward him. "I thought no one would want such an uncouth, low-class woman?" she says. Madara turns and glares.

"You are uncouth as well as low-class, but only an idiot would fail to see your better attributes."

Hashi giggles. She presses against his back, circling her arms around him.

It takes a day's hike back to the gates of the village, and by the time they reach Konoha, it's already night. They reach the gates and sentries carrying torch lights rush toward them. They surround Hashi, who smiles and laughs, her armor scuffed as she laughs and chats with them, rubbing her neck. Madara watches, standing in the shadows while Hashi tells them their terms.

"He said he'd stay if we get married," she says, and Madara watches as she explains her decision to Tobirama and a small gathering of Senju and Uchiha men, Tobirama spewing expletives while the Senju and Uchiha glance at each other uneasily.

The sentries leave. Everything is quiet except for the sounds of insects and the soft sounds of footsteps on the dirt. Madara looks up and sees everything around him is covered in a blueish hue, his eyes adjusting to the dark grayscale.

"Well," Madara says. Hashi turns to look at him. "I suppose you'll be going back to your compound, then."

Hashi blinks. "I thought I'd stay with you?"

Madara's eyes widen a fraction. "We aren't yet married," he says, but Hashi wraps her arms around him.

"It doesn't matter. I want to stay with you."

She's looking up at him, smiling and trusting. He touches the side of her face, fanning his thumb across her cheek.

"Very well, then," he says, and he rests a hand on her head, trying to ignore the sudden warmth that springs at the back of his eyes.

*****

He makes sure he's gentle the second night.

The room is dark except for the soft haze of candlelight, and she sighs and moans softly, her hair sticking against the damp skin of her face. He moves with long, slow strokes, cradling her face and pressing soft kisses to her mouth and eyelids. Their foreheads touch. He breathes raggedly as he presses into her.

She lies on her side, naked in his bed, and as he pulls on his robe he sees how her skin looks soft and warm in the orange candlelight. Her hair falls down the curve of her shoulder, while the bedsheets drape around her body. She's beautiful, he realizes, and he has to stop himself, wondering why he's never seen it.

"I can do my Sexy no Jutsu better now!" Hashi says, beaming, and Madara suddenly remembers.

He lies beside her, and all at once she's on top of him, nuzzling her head against his chest and cuddling him. It's like trying to sleep next to an overly affectionate pet. Like a bear or an overgrown dog.

"I like dogs," Hashi says, sleepily, and she kisses him, smiling and nudging at his head.

He snuffs out the candle, then lies back down. It's dark and he's tired, but she starts kissing him again. Madara frowns and opens his eyes while Hashi presses herself against his body, smiling widely. She slips a hand into his robe.

"What are you doing?" he says, and she beams at him.

"I want to do it again."

"Wha--" Madara blinks, but Hashi is already on top of him, reaching down to stroke him. He gasps and exhales sharply, unmoored by the sensation.

She's giddy when she kisses him, her face splitting into a grin as he rolls her on her back. One smooth stroke, and he's inside her, kissing her deeply as he thrusts and wraps his arms around her.

*****

"Ne," Hashi says, and Madara turns to look at her. She's lying sideways, her head sharing his pillow. "I just realized. Is this why you wouldn't share a room with me?"

"You are just now figuring this out?" Madara says, and Hashi smiles at him. He shifts her closer, tucking her into his chest. "I'm a man and you're a woman," his lips brush against her forehead before pressing an absent kiss, "Sharing a room would be inappropriate."

"Because you wanted to see my body?"

"Because you're hopelessly naive and I didn't want to fuel useless gossip."

Hashi giggles, sing-song, "Because you were _in love_ with me. Because you think I'm _pretty_."

"Because you are an idiot. Why are you smiling?"

She kisses the side of his chin. "Can we have sex again?"

Madara stares. "We spent the last two days battling and all day yesterday hiking. Why are you not sleeping?"

She climbs on top of him again. "Oh c'mon. I want to do it again."

Madara glares and blushes. "You really are an uncouth woman."

"I can't help it. It feels good when you're inside me."

His eyes widen. Her words catch him off guard. His blush deepens.

She rests her arms on his chest and kisses him behind his ear. "Please?"

He scowls and manages to get a hold of himself. "I am tired. Go to sleep."

"One more time. Then I'll sleep."

"You are meeting with your brother and those simple-minded idiots at the council, it will be daylight in a few hours, we need to sleep."

She starts massaging him over the fabric of his robe. "Please?"

She looks up at him with wide, innocent eyes as she strokes him. Madara huffs.

"Fine, if it will get you to go to sleep," he says, and Hashi grins and clambers on top of him.

*****

He is not accustomed to sleeping in comfort. Certainly not waking up to the feel of a squirmy, wormy body, which is cuddled up against him as she snuggles him in her sleep. It feels nice and he's embarrassed by it.

She's starting to come awake, and he hears her sigh contentedly, a happy little sound. She stretches a little, then rolls to hug him.

He forces himself up. Hashi makes an irritated sound and squints her eyes, turning and pulling the covers over her head.

"It is your own fault you're so tired. Wake up," Madara says, and Hashi groans and burrows under the covers.

"Just a few more minutes--"

Madara yanks the blanket off her. Hashi huffs.

"I can see why your little brother is so exasperated with you," Madara says, as Hashi pouts and combs her hair.

It is strange. On the field of battle, she is fearsome, her wood-style jutsu inspiring awe and terror in her men. That they had battled almost to the death the day before is so jarring to him. One or both of them should be dead, but now he's ushering her around his bedroom, tossing her kimono at her while admonishing her to stop with her idiocy already and go get dressed.

She stands and wraps her arms around him, smiling and resting her head against his chest.

Madara rests a hand on her head. "We had better get going," Madara says.


	3. Tobirama

There was an explosion, and all at once the sky was dark and choked with thick, black smoke. Tobirama and his men tried to push through the fray, but his sister leapt forward as the ground erupted with violent growth and expansion, the trunks of trees propelling her forward.

"Get back!" his sister said. Another explosion ripped through the smoke behind her. "I alone will face him! Tobirama, get back!"

The pressure from the explosion made her hair whip violently around her body, which was silhouetted against the blood-red backdrop of fire and smoke.

She disappeared into the fire. In the distance, the battle raged, the thunderous crash of their jutsus booming like muted thunder. Tobirama and his men watched, faces smudged and hearts in their throats, eyes squinted and just barely making out the hazy flares of bright white explosions, the blue-hue of Madara's Susanoo violently careening into the dark distant shapes of his sister's jutsus.

And then, there was silence.

The dark sky above them opened into a heavy rain, and now only Tobirama stood vigil, hand on the hilt of his katana, searching in the darkness for any sign of his sister.

  
*****

"She's probably dead," his advisor said.

Tobirama clenched his jaw, ignoring the sudden warmth that sprang behind his eyes while the small coterie of Senju elders quietly surrounded him. "Tobirama-sama. You know your sister would have wanted you to succeed her."

"I know." His hand lightly touched the parchment on the table.

Days passed. The Valley of the End was still surrounded by smoke and fire, and it was still too dangerous to look for survivors. Tobirama knew it would be a mission to retrieve the bodies - Madara's, to give back to the Uchiha, and his sister's.

The moon was out. Tobirama paced when he heard the sentries shouting. A flurry of activity by the courtyard.

The great doors to their stronghold opened, and Tobirama could see his sister limping next to Madara.

"Sister!" Tobirama ran to her.

"Tobirama." She lurched forward and threw her arms around him, and it was only a moment before Tobirama got his wits about him. He pulled back, then stared at Madara.

"A moment, sister," Tobirama said, and he motioned toward the Senju guards. "A moment while we deal with this traitor."

"Tobirama, he isn't leaving," his sister said. "Tobirama, he's staying and we're getting married."

"What?" Tobirama said.

Behind her, Madara was watching them silently, cold eyes slanted and glittering. Tobirama's focus shifted from Madara back down to his sister, who was looking up at him searchingly.

"Genjutsu," Tobirama said. He pushed Hashi aside and strode toward Madara. "What did you do to her?"

"Tobirama, he didn't do anything."

"He attacked our village! He decimated the plainlands - he fought against you and tried to kill you!"

"Tobirama, please--"

"Sister, I only have the utmost respect for you, but when it comes to him your feelings can't be trusted."

"I love him," Hashi said, and Tobirama's eyes widened.

Madara was still standing behind them. There was a shadow covering his eyes and he stood still, unmoving. His sister looked up at him, searching his eyes.

"He promised me he wouldn't attack," Hashi said. "He said he'd stay if I married him. The only other way to stop him would be to kill him."

"Well that is your answer, then," Tobirama said. His sister touched his arm.  
  
"I relinquish the title of Hokage," Hashi said. "I won't lead. You will become the leader of this village and Madara will leave it in peace."

Tobirama tightened his jaw.

"Sister, I say this as your brother, as someone who loves you. He will hurt you," Tobirama said. "He already has."

Hashi glanced back at Madara, then back at Tobirama again.

"I know."


	4. Shrine

She started keeping a small shrine after her mother's death; their clans were nomadic, but wherever they pitched their tents, Hashi would find a quiet place where she would set down her mother's cloth handkerchief and burn incense. Later, when they built Konoha, Hashi kept her little shrine in the middle of the common areas she shared with Tobirama. It gave her a place to say hello to her mother, to vent when Tobirama was irritating her or seek her advice when something was going wrong in her life. Sometimes she would pass, and she would see that Tobirama had lit the incense. Neither of them acknowledged it, but she knew Tobirama also went to their little shrine to vent about her to their father.

Madara also has a shrine, tucked far off in the corner of his house.

She had been slowly moving in her things, folding her kimonos, when she saw the little shrine sitting atop the shelf. While Hashi and Tobirama would sometimes give offerings of apples or bowls of rice, there is nothing on the little shelf; just a candle and a place to light incense. As the days pass and Hashi gets used to Madara's comings and goings, she notices he doesn't leave offerings and he doesn't talk to his dead relatives. He just stops, stands silently, staring into the shadows, before turning and doing whatever it was before the shrine distracted him. 

She doesn't ask him about Izuna, because she knows it's too painful for him.

Madara is coming back, tired and slightly irritated, because he had spent the last few hours arguing with the Uchiha elders who demanded he apologize for his actions and give the Senju recompense. If they were still nomadic, the elders would have exiled him from their clan, but since they all lived in the village it didn't matter much what they thought of him.

He looks for Hashirama, quickly turning the corner to vent to her about the idiocy of all the elders and the ingratitude of his clan, when he sees it: a small bowl of rice and a pair of chopsticks, an offering for Izuna.

She's in the kitchen, laying out a small bowl of rice and fish, when she looks up and beams at him.

"You're back," Hashi says. Madara blinks.

"You cooked that?"

"Heh. Yeah." She stands, wiping her hands on the sides of her kimono before hugging him. "My mother taught me."

He kneels at the table, and she hands him a bowl of rice. It goes without saying that she was the one who prepared their meals for her father and brothers, as she was the only woman in their family.

They eat. He tells her about the ingrates at the council. They clean up and she draws a bath. She falls asleep holding him, curled up against his back.

He looks up into the darkness. Shifting carefully, he turns so that he's facing her. She's sleeping deeply. Quietly he brushes a strand of hair back, then pulls her close, holding her. She stirs, then burrows her head against his chest before falling asleep again. He presses a soft kiss against her temple. 

The next morning, Hashi wakes to an empty bed and a slant of bright yellow light. He's already left the house, but there is a small plate of food for her sitting on the table.


	5. Appreciation

There is a thick rectangle of light that falls onto Hashi's eyes. She squints and blinks slowly, the sheets rustling as she sits upright.

Madara is asleep. He's curled up on his side, his back facing her and breathing deeply. It's the first time she's really seen him asleep - the few times they traveled together, he would sleep leaning against some rocky cave wall or random tree, his sword resting across his shoulder and chest. He always woke up before her, and if she did catch him sleeping, he was usually just resting, awake but with his eyes closed.

She pulls the covers around them both, then sinks against him, draping her arm around his waist and cupping her body against his back. His body feels warm and solid and she can feel the slight rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathes.

*****

Uchiha Madara is not a handsome man. At least, not by any objective standard.

His face is too severe, his eyes permanently dark and angry. There are puffy bags under his eyes and deep creases because he's always sneering or frowning. He never smiles. His skin is shockingly pale against the tangled mess of long dark hair, which he never brushes even though it would be a liability in battle were somebody to grab it. Shirtless he is even more intimidating, the shock of choppy black hair catching the wind as he looks down on his enemies, hands covered by gloves and his chest covered with scars.

And then there is his body language, which is also off-putting. Arms crossed, face pinched, he's always giving off the impression that he has better places to be than here, and he does not hesitate to let one know it. The crossed arms are like a barrier, even more effective at repelling people than his Susanoo.

And yet, when they're alone he visibly softens, the hard lines and dark creases going into a more neutral position. Lying in bed, she'll search his face, the tips of her fingers dragging down one pale cheek. She'll see long eyelashes framing dark eyes, which are so dark they're almost black. She'll kiss the sharp angle of his jaw, feel his dry, chapped lips against her mouth, which is womanly and soft by comparison. She'll squirm closer to him and wriggle into his arms.

"You cannot possibly be attracted to him," Tobirama says, and they both think of the Uzumaki to whom she had been originally betrothed, a man who laughed often and easily and whose bright blue eyes were always smiling. Madara by comparison looks like an angry troll.

She can't explain it. She can't explain how mesmerized she is by the angle of his jaw when he's irritated, or how her stomach flips when his sharp eyes narrow into an angry glare. His hair is wild and he has an untamed, dangerous quality about him, dark and feral, his movements suggestive of the threat of violence. His body is firm and warm and solid, and when she leans against his chest she'll blush a bit at the feel of hard muscle and the scent of sweat, sharp and metallic, or how his skin tastes like salt when she sucks on the strap muscle of his neck, or how tight his arms are when he holds her.

They have just finished sparring in the courtyard. It's unseasonably warm and Hashi takes a long gulp of water, emptying her flask. Behind her, Madara pulls off his sweat-stained shirt and tosses it carelessly against a stony pillar, before sweeping the hair off his neck and pouring a canteen of water onto his head. He bows his head, letting the water sluice down his neck and the muscles of his back.

Hashi watches. Madara shakes his head, wet strands of hair sticking to his skin, before pushing a hand over the thick black lock that usually covers his eye.

It is odd, being able to look at him as closely as this: the Uchiha's clothing is shapeless, all thick, purple fabric and high collars obscuring the lower half of one's face and neck, the tail ends of their cassocks covering their legs. Even the sleeves are loose, covering their hands except for the tips of their fingers, which are often covered with thick leather gloves. Now she has a better look at his body, which is hard and lean, the result of years of fighting and training.

He sits next to her, toweling himself off with his shirt before handing her his canteen of water. Hashi takes it and takes a grateful swig, then hands it back to him.

Their fingers brush. Hashi frowns a moment, then takes his hand.

Madara blinks. "What?" he says. She pulls his hand in front of her, studying the groove of his knuckles, then turning it over to examine his palm.

"You don't have any callouses," Hashi says. She rubs his palm with her thumb. "You use weapons more than I do. How are your hands so soft?"

Madara's eyes narrow. "It's the reason why I wear gloves."

"Really?" Hashi turns his hand over again. His fingers are long and tapered, the delicate ovals of his fingernails completely at odds with Hashi's short, stubby fingers. "Look at mine," Hashi says, and she holds her hand up, showing him. Unlike Madara's, her hand is mannish, all rough skin and thick palms and dirt beneath her fingernails.

Her hand drops, and wordlessly Madara covers her hand with his.

There is a warm silence. They take turns drinking from the canteen and look out into the courtyard. Madara drapes his shirt around his neck like a towel while Hashi takes another swig of water.


	6. Laundry

Because she was too busy leading the clan to do women's work, Hashi and Tobirama had a Senju auntie take care of their chores.

They paid her, of course. Every morning, the auntie would greet them and gather their laundry, cheerfully washing their clothes in the river and preparing their meals. It wasn't that Hashi was incapable - her mother taught her all the things it took to be a good wife - but she bore responsibilities that would normally befall a man, and as such, didn't have time to tend to their household, even if she wanted to.

"Where do you put your soiled clothes?" Hashi asks. She's already drawn a bath and changed into her sleeping clothes. Madara points.

"Just put them over there."

Hashi glances at the pile of Uchiha cassocks tossed carelessly in a basket.

She wonders if it's appropriate to have his housekeeper wash her things for her - they aren't married and the thought of some hapless Uchiha auntie doing her linens is a bit presumptuous - but Madara doesn't seem to think it's a big deal, so Hashi just tosses her soiled linens on the pile and forgets all about it.

*****

She wakes to the sound of birds. Hashi squints her eyes and stretches an arm out toward Madara's side of the futon, but as expected, he's already left hours ago, the sheets cool where he had been sleeping. Hashi cracks her eyes open, then rolls over to his side of the bed. His pillow still smells like him, and she smiles and blushes a little bit. She'll have to tell him to wake her up before he leaves from now on, she wants to cuddle him a bit before he goes.

She straightens out her yukata, then pads barefoot in the kitchen, fixes herself tea and munches on a stick of roast meat he's left for her on the table. She rubs her arms and looks around, wondering where he is.

She goes for a walk. Tobirama is now fully in charge, and ever since the transition, there isn't much for Hashi to do except wait for meetings or another mission. Unlike the other Uchiha, Madara's house isn't in the village; it's in the forest, just a few kilometers outside the village gates. She'd asked him once if he ever felt lonely being this isolated, but he just scoffed at her and told her he preferred the forest; he didn't like dealing with idiots.

She can hear the sound of bubbling water, a creek or river behind her. She glances around, then walks carefully off the path and toward the sound of running water, just to take a better look.

Madara is on his knees, slopping wet clothes roughly into the river.

"You wash your own clothes?" Hashi carefully walks down the riverbank and kneels next to him. "I thought you'd have an auntie do all that, you should have told me."

Madara keeps scrubbing the cloth, not looking at her. "I don't trust outsiders to touch my things." She looks and sees he has already washed all her kimonos.

There's an amiable silence as they kneel side by side, scrubbing clothes underwater. Above them, a bird chirps. There's the sound of lapping water as they take turns wringing cloth and tossing them on the rocky ledge. Wordlessly she copies Madara as he hangs the wet shirt over a long tree branch; once they're all hung, he blows a modified katon, one thin flame generating enough ambient heat to dry the fabric.

He cooks his own food. Unlike the other shinobi, who either have sisters or wives or housekeepers who prepare their meals for them, Madara will just grab whatever dead meat he hunts and char it in the fire. Cooking rice is a hassle, but he knows how to do it.

She cooks tamago and mixed mushroom soup, rolling a sheet of nori and rice and setting it on the table. They eat, and it's nice being together like this. It feels like they're a family.


	7. Chores

"This is woman's work. I don't know why you're stooping so low to do this."

Madara watches as Hashi dunks a carrot into a basin of water, then roughly scrubs the skin with a brush before tossing it into a bucket. She has a whole pile of carrots, daikon radishes that need to be peeled and broken down, a whole bag of onions that need to be tied off. It was nice at first, how easily she slipped into her role as his fiancée and future wife - heaven knows how often he had privately fantasized about this, during his more shameful and embarrassing moments of weakness, which usually happened after she'd accidentally touch him or smile at him or hug him. But seeing it now is disconcerting, as if she's actively debasing herself for him. Hashi looks up at Madara, amused.

"The last time I checked, I am a woman."

"The strongest shinobi scrubbing vegetables. It is shameful."

"Then do you want to help me?" Hashi says. Madara sighs heavily.

They carry buckets of vegetables to the kitchen. "You've never been to the village market?" Hashi says. She sets down a bucket of vegetables. "How did you eat? Don't tell me all you ate was the animals you hunted--"

"So what if I did?"

"--and you'd just use your katon on them," Hashi says, frowning. She puts her hands on her hips. "So the only time you had a decent meal was when I was with you." She thinks of the times they'd meet in the village square as friends, Hashi dragging him to whatever food stall that happened to catch her eye at the time.

Madara glares. Hashi claps his shoulder.

"Let's go to the market," she says. Madara scowls.

"I don't see the point," Madara says. "We already have everything we need."

"I wanted to buy some fish and slice sashimi," Hashi says. Madara rubs his head.

The civilian quarter of the village is dusty and full of people. There are merchants selling fish and vegetables, others selling jewelry and cooking ware, various silver pieces and pottery. Hashi and Madara walk and the people turn to look at them. It's rare to see an Uchiha man in the middle of the market.

Madara stands uncomfortably as Hashi bends over the merchants' produce, picking out vegetables, choosing the freshest fish. She's all smiles as the merchants hand her things to her. She touches his hand, hooking her basket over the crook of her arm.

"No one knows who you are, I wouldn't worry," Hashi says. Madara looks back at her silently.

She slaps the fish on the counter. Standing in the kitchen, Madara watches as Hashi rolls the sleeves of her kimono up, tying them back with a white sash and pulling back her hair. She works quickly, descaling the fish and slicing its belly open, cleaning out its innards.

"You work fast," Madara says. He watches Hashi's knife work. "Although I shouldn't be surprised since you're used to handling swords."

"You don't have to be a shinobi to slice fish." Hashi presses her palm flat against the fish, then presses her knife horizontally inwards.

She cooks. She runs over the wooden floors with a rag, palms on the floor while running up and down the corridors. She airs out the futons in the sun and gathers up their soiled clothes.

Madara follows her, unsure if he should say something. That Senju Hashirama, a living legend who wields the mokuton, can heal without making hand seals, and inspires fear and awe in all her enemies, is doing the work of a common housewife unnerves him.

Hashi is wiping a shelf when Madara scowls, then yanks away her rag. Hashi turns.

"Anata?"

"Give me that." Madara glares. "This is beneath you. You should not demean yourself by cooking and cleaning."

"Oh? So are you going to help me cook and clean, then?"

Madara glowers. "I took care of myself before."

Hashi giggles. She steps close, wrapping her arms around him.

He helps her with the chores because it's an affront to his senses, the idea that someone more powerful than him would content themselves with cooking and cleaning. "What are you doing?" Hashi asks. She's boiling ox bones for soup and Madara is watching with his Sharingan.

"Observing," Madara says. He closes his eyes, then opens them, his irises back to his normal black again.

At night, they lay down the futons. Hashi curls against him with her arm draped heavily across his waist, and it strikes him that this is what it's like to make a life together.

He wonders briefly what it'd be like when they have children. She would be a good mother, he decides. The thought pleases him, and he closes his eyes.


	8. Fish

"Wait wait wait, you're mangling the flesh, you don't cut against the grain--"

"What?" Madara says, and they both look down at the sorry fish carcass splayed out in front of him. 

Usually when she cooked, Madara would turn on his Sharingan so that he could copy her recipes exactly. It's a handy technique and one of the reasons why the Uchiha clan was considered to be a clan of geniuses, but when it came to down slicing sashimi Madara didn't bother. "You are cutting fish," Madara had said. "It cannot be that hard."

It is hard, and Hashi watches, trying not to laugh and biting her lip as Madara struggles to clean the fish. There are pin bones still stuck in the flesh, and most of the usable meat is wasted. "Here," Hashi says, and she scoots next to him, fondly bumping him out of the way. "Like this," she says, and Madara sighs, watching.

She stirs a bowl of sushi rice together, seasoning it with salt and sugar and vinegar, and her movements are sure. Practiced. The rice is warm as she palms it in her hand and lays a slice of fish on top of it.

"Here," she says, and she gives him a self-satisfied smile as his eyes widen a little at the taste of it. "Good, right?" she says. Madara blushes, flustered, then gets a hold of himself. His eyes narrow.

"It is passable."

"Oh really, now?"

"Any idiot can mix vinegar with rice," Madara says. Hashi raises her eyebrows.

Madara is not good at making sushi rice. 

"I think you used too much water," Hashi says. The rice is too wet, the proportions of seasoning are off, and Madara just stands there and glares while Hashi dumps the rest of the soggy rice back into the pot. 

"What are you doing?" Madara says. Hashi smiles at him.

"I'm making a rice porridge with this."

"I already seasoned it, you said it tasted off."

"Nothing a little dashi won't fix," Hashi says. Madara watches her, awestruck.

Madara follows her as she sets the table. "Hashirama."

"Hm?"

Madara hesitates. "I wasn't aware you could do things like this."

"What? Cook?" Hashi says. Madara blushes and glares.

"I just assumed you were raised like a man," Madara says. Hashi bursts out laughing.

"Are you kidding? Father wanted to marry me out as soon as possible, but as soon as they would see me, nobody wanted me."

"How can that be? You are clearly proficient," Madara says. Hashi raises her eyebrows at him.

There is a warm silence. They eat sitting across from each other, Hashi sitting on her knees and eating her meal delicately, the way a proper woman would. Madara looks down at the table awkwardly.

"What is it?" Hashi says. Madara blushes and doesn't look at her.

"This is nice." He shoves his chopsticks quickly into his mouth, angry and embarrassed. Hashi's face brightens. She crawls around the table and hugs him.


	9. Pregnant

"Did you know," Tobirama said, and his eyes narrowed pointedly at her, "that you always speak to Uchiha Madara the way a wife would address her husband?"

"I do?" This was news to Hashi, who pretty much talked to Madara the same way she talked to Tobirama. Tobirama huffed.

"It is always _anata_ this or _anata_ that. Your way of speaking is far too intimate."

Hashi demurred, "Well we've always been good friends--"

"This is probably why he's so obsessed with you! You're a woman! You should be more formal when you address him!"

("Tobirama thinks I'm being too familiar," Hashi said to Madara later. She sat on the windowsill, swinging her legs as Madara stopped and looked up, frowning at her. "I mean, you're practically my brother, of course I'm being familiar!"

"Hmph." Madara sniffed. "If you truly did treat me like an older brother, you would be far more deferential.")

*****

"You slept with him?!" Tobirama said.

"I slept next to him. We were trapped in a snowstorm and it was cold."

Tobirama paced, agitated.

"Sister you cannot do that," Tobirama said. "What if he took advantage?"

"Huh," Hashi said. "That's what Madara said."

"Sister!"

"Don't worry, Little Brother. Madara was even more paranoid than you."

*****

"You do realize, Sister, how physical you are with him?"

"Physical?" Hashi said.

"You sit too close to him," Tobirama said. "You're always touching him and seeking advice from him. If you're not careful, the lunatic might think you're in love with him."

"Little Brother, you're being ridiculous. We sit close only when we're reading the same scrolls. I value his advice. And I have no idea what you mean when you say I keep touching him."

*****

There was a meeting. Tobirama's eyes tracked toward his sister, who was sitting next to Madara. She said something and touched his arm for emphasis.

"Sister," Tobirama said.

He followed them sullenly as they walked down the hallway, when Hashi stopped to show Madara something, touching him on the elbow.

"Sister," Tobirama said.

There was an informal gathering of Uchiha elders, his sister sitting next to Madara. Madara's face was pinched while his sister was laughing and listing sideways. Their shoulders touched as her laughter subsided. Their eyes met and she gazed up adoringly at him.

" _Sister_ ," Tobirama said.

*****

"Why is he following us?" Madara said.

"He thinks we're in love. I don't know what's wrong with him."

"Perhaps something heavy hit him on the head."

*****

"Senju Tobirama," Madara said. "I have no interest in your sister."

Tobirama sniffed. "If that is the case, then I assume that the reason you're always hanging around her is so you can manipulate her."

"She is a useful ally. I cannot say the same about her brother."

*****

What did his sister see in Uchiha Madara? That half-crazed degenerate. That lunatic traitor who stole his brother's eyes?

It's been a few weeks since the night of that fateful battle, and Tobirama watches, growing increasingly frustrated, as his sister laughs and grins and hangs all over him; Tobirama watches as she clasps her hand around his arm, beaming up at him brightly while Madara walks stiffly and silently beside her.

"Oh, that? He isn't really comfortable showing affection," Hashi says.

She's sitting on the desk, helping Tobirama with the transition. Tobirama looks at her doubtfully. "Only when there's people around," Hashi clarifies. She shuffles through their papers. "He's just like you, Little Brother. In public he never smiles."

Tobirama stares. And stares. And takes a moment to keep his jaw from falling onto the ground. "Sister, you cannot be serious. I am nothing like that bloodthirsty lunatic."

Hashi starts laughing. "Did you know, he said the same thing?"

"What?"

"I told him how alike you two are, and Madara said, 'you cannot be serious,' and 'well obviously now I have to kill myself to escape from the shame.' Ha ha! He's so melodramatic," Hashi says. Tobirama puts his head in his hands.

"Ugh, Sister, you even sound like him."

"Well, I am to marry him."

"Do not remind me." Tobirama grimaces.

"I actually think that's why I like him," Hashi says.

"Because he's unhinged and unbalanced?" Tobirama says. Hashi shakes her head.

"Because he's so serious, he's just like you, it's a lot of fun to tease him."

Tobirama opens his mouth to argue, but Hashi does a little hop off the desk, smiling happily. "I think if you got to know him, you'd actually like him."

"Please." Tobirama says. "I'd rather slit my wrists than demean myself by spending time with him."

"That's what Madara said."

"Ugh," Tobirama says.

*****

They're supposed to have a meeting with the Hyuuga, a high-stakes diplomatic meeting to hash out details of a potential alliance. For months, Hashi had been spearheading the negotiations, and so at the Hyuuga's request she comes along with them, Tobirama wearing his ceremonial Hokage robes while his sister walks next to him.

They're walking down the hallway, Tobirama and his sister and a small coterie of Senju advisors, when they pass Uchiha Madara, who's leaning against the wall of the hallway. His arms are crossed and he looks vaguely irritated, but as his sister passes, his eyes widen.

"I need a word," Madara says to his sister.

"Now?" Hashi says, but Madara yanks Hashi toward him. Tobirama starts.

"What are you doing? Why are you grabbing my sister?" 

Madara snaps at him, "That is none of your concern."

"Little brother, it will be just a minute," Hashi says.

"Sister, the meeting is starting. The Hyuuga will be gravely offended."

"Just start the meeting without me," Hashi says. She stumbles a little as Madara yanks her forward.

*****

Feckless! Irresponsible! Manipulative! Tobirama thinks, as he rounds the corner to follow them. Madara always hated the Hyuuga! Of course he would try to sabotage them!

"Sister! This cannot go on!" Tobirama storms down the hallway, throwing open the doors to Hashi's chambers. "Whatever half-crazed idea he has, it can wait. The Hyuuga are waiting," Tobirama says, then stops abruptly when he sees Madara kneeling in front of Hashi, a scowl on his face while he's pressing a hand flat against his sister.

"What the hell are you doing?" Tobirama says. He puts his hand on the hilt of his sword. "What are you doing to my sister?"

"Tobirama." Hashi stands. "I'm pregnant."

"What?"

"He saw it as we were passing, but he needed to make sure."

Tobirama stares, stricken. Madara gives him a smug look. "I saw two different colors of chakra swirling in opposition," Madara says. He sniffs, arrogantly. "Even without the Sharingan, I could tell she was pregnant. I simply wanted to take a closer look."

Tobirama sputters. "Sister, how could that be, you're not yet married--" and then his mind snaps to the Valley of the End, his sister dragging Madara in like a half-rotting corpse.

"What did you do to her?!" Tobirama says. Madara smirks.

"Nothing that you would approve of, I'm sure," Madara says, loftily.

"Tobirama, I'm pregnant." Hashi starts to laugh, tears streaming down the sides of her face. "I can't believe it, I'm--"

"What is the meaning of this? Why are we waiting?" The doors burst open, the Hyuuga ministers barging in when they see Madara kneeling and Hashi crying, Tobirama looking like he wants to kill somebody with his bare hands.

"You're with child," one of the Hyuuga elders says. They glance at each other, then at his sister, who's crying and laughing and quickly wiping her eyes. "Did you just now find out? Congratulations," the Hyuuga elders say. They circle Hashi as she laughs awkwardly, sniffing and wiping the tears from her eyes.

The meeting is a success, smoothed over by the feel-good announcement of his sister's pregnancy. The Hyuuga agree to terms, and as the elders sign the treaty, Tobirama leans toward Madara.

"If you weren't marrying my sister I would kill you where you stand," Tobirama says in a low voice. Madara smirks.

"Don't think I can't dispatch of you easily. You're only alive because you're her brother."

*****

The Nara are agitating outside the borderlands. Hashi slings her sword across her back, ready to go into battle, when Madara snaps at her, "What the devil are you doing? You're with my child, you cannot fight them!"

"Excuse me?" Hashi says. Tobirama nods, crossing his arms.

"I agree, sister. You're with child. Let someone else engage them."

It's the first time Madara and Tobirama agree about anything. Hashi makes an irritated noise at the both of them. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't still beat the crap out of both of you."

"No one is saying you can't, sister, we're just saying you're with child, you shouldn't recklessly be throwing yourself into battle. And not to belabor the point, but look at yourself. You cannot even fit into your armor."

"Your brother makes an excellent point," Madara says, and Hashi has to pause at that, because never in her wildest dreams would she think she'd hear Madara say that. Hashi bristles.

"I don't need armor! I can use my Mokuton for defense--"

"And only a foolhardy idiot would presume their jutsu is enough for defense."

Hashi protests, "But when we fought at the Valley of the End, you weren't wearing any armor."

"He doesn't need to use his armor," Tobirama says.

"Thank you," Madara says.

"His Susanoo envelopes him. It is nothing like your plants."

"Correct," Madara says, and he and Tobirama fistbump. Hashi stares at them, incredulous.

"So I'm just supposed to stay here while the two of you go and suppress them?"

Madara and Tobirama speak at the same time: "Yes."

Hashi huffs and rubs her head.

******

Their child is born with the Rinnegan.

"What is going on?!" Tobirama says, as he opens the door to the nursery and sees the baby hurling sharp objects with her Deva Path and randomly summoning large beasts that trample through their rooms. Madara has taken to shielding himself with his Susanoo.

The baby squeals, then floats. Madara reaches out and grabs her.

("Is that lunatic actually happy about this?" Tobirama says later to Hashi, after the baby lets out a beam of concentrated energy, the baby's massive chakra practically destroying their house. Hashi smiles.

"She's his daughter, of course he is."

And the baby laughs, then belches out fire.)


	10. Scars (explicit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit content, cunnilingus, PIV sex.

Nighttime. They're kissing in bed, the room dark except for the soft haze of orange candlelight. He leans over her and parts her robe, exposing the line of her clavicles and two perfect breasts. Quietly he bends over and softly closes his mouth over her nipple.

She lets out a shuddery breath as he lowers himself, his hands gently parting her thighs before dipping his head against her body. She feels his mouth closing over her swollen bud.

A sharp slash of pleasure, and she cries out, body tensing as he softly licks and kisses her, gently suckling her clit until her breath grows short and shallow.

Pleasure bursts, and she gasps and cries out, her head thrown back as her body contracts violently from the strength of her orgasm. Her body jerks; she grips his shoulders, trembling. He lies on top of her and kisses the side of her neck, stroking her hair as she jerks intermittently with a few aftershocks. It's only until her body has eased itself out of her orgasm that he gently presses inside her.

She wraps her arms around his back, feels the strain of his muscles and the tangled mop of hair. He breathes hard against her neck, gripping her tight as his thrusts grow more erratic. He moves with his full weight against her, breathing raggedly and thrusting harder.

His arms tighten around her when he comes, gasping against her neck. She feels him pulsing hard, his heart hammering in his chest. Instinctively she rocks her hips upward, rubbing her clit against his body, a few pops of pleasure as he sinks against her.

They breathe in tandem, his arms wrapped around her body. He lifts his head and she beams up at him, and he smiles and kisses her gently, his lips brushing tenderly against hers.

"Ne," Hashi says. She grins into his mouth. "Let's do it again after you've rested."

He chuckles softly, shaking his head.

They get up to clean themselves. Madara snuffs out the candle, and they lie back down, Hashi fitting herself into his arms and pulling a blanket around the both of them.

"I should have married you before we started the village," Hashi says. She feels his arms tighten. "Maybe if we were married, you wouldn't have left."

She looks out into the darkness, her eyes growing dim. "I'm sorry about what happened," she says. She feels him stroke her hair.

"You have nothing to apologize for," he says, and he shifts her close, holding her.

"I wish we did this earlier," she says. She nuzzles warmly against him. "Have you ever been with other women?"

"On occasion."

"Did you love them?"

"No."

"Do you love me?"

"Yes. Unfortunately."

"Where did you meet them?"

"I met them at brothels. I paid them."

"I bet you could have gotten any woman you wanted," Hashi says, and Madara shifts to look at her.

"I wasn't interested," Madara says.

"Why not?" Hashi says. Madara touches the side of her face.

"Because a certain idiot kept trying to carve out an alliance."

Hashi beams at that. She hugs him. "I kept holding out my hand, but you wouldn't take it." She grins and kisses his jaw, crawling on top of him. "Can we have sex again?" He smirks and answers by rolling her onto her back.

They kiss. She's about to peel off his robe when her eyes fall on a jagged scar along the muscle of his bicep.

"What are you doing?" Madara asks, as Hashi gently pushes him down, examining the front of his chest.

"Is it okay if I look?"

Madara raises his eyebrows. "I thought you wanted to do more than just 'look.'"

"I do! But I've never seen a naked man before, and the last few times I haven't been paying attention."

"You cannot be serious," Madara says, but he acquiesces, letting her examine his body as he lies on the mattress.

She touches his chest. She feels the ridge of hard muscle, the deep groove of his sternum, and she blushes. Even though they've been intimate for some time now, she never really stopped to take a good look at him. She smooths her hands over his ribs and the flattened ridge of his stomach. There is an ugly scar across his abdomen, while another scar mars the plane of his back. On his chest, a deep one, star-shaped and jagged.

"You have a lot of scars," Hashi says."Where's this one from?"

"It was from a training accident. Izuna and I were sparring. He didn't pull back." Madara moves, showing her the scar by his clavicle. "This one was from the head of an arrow. I did not yet have my sharingan; it caught me by surprise."

"What about this one?" Hashi says. Her fingers smooth over the scar on his abdomen. Madara smiles.

"You gave me that one," Madara says.

"Eh?!"

"Your wood style jutsu gored me in the stomach when my chakra ran low."

"Oof. I'm sorry," Hashi says. They spend a moment, remembering.

"You do not have any scars," Madara says, after a long moment. Hashi glances down at her naked torso, looking at her breasts.

"Huh. I guess not," Hashi says. Madara pushes her back onto the mattress.

He runs his hand along the curve of her hip, then palms the soft swell of her breast. He dips down to kiss her nipple, before lifting his head again. "These surprise me," Madara says, and he rolls her nipples between his thumb and index fingers, thoughtfully. "For the longest time I didn't consider your sex."

"What do you mean?" Hashi says, and she sighs quietly as he starts to stroke her. He lifts his eyes to look at her.

"You are beautiful and I never noticed."

Hashi starts to laugh. He crawls on top of her and she cups his face with her hands.

*****

The marriage ceremony is a short one, just a few Senju advisors watching them. He sees Hashi, clad in a white kimono and her face partially obscured by the long white funnel of her bridal cap.

"Sister, you look beautiful," Tobirama says. Hashi groans.

"I hate this kimono, I can barely walk in this thing, and what's with this hat?! I can't see where I'm going!" Hashi says, and Madara watches as his bride and brother-in-law fuss over the restrictive layers of her clothes.


	11. knife to skin (explicit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> angst, masturbation

There was nothing but the sound of his breathing in the dimly lit dark, and furtively Madara stroked himself, crouched over the tatami mats that were laid out haphazardly at the corner of the room. Already, his eyes had gotten used to the darkness, which was inky and black except for the feeble haze of dull moonlight, and Madara had to close his eyes, already distracted by the shapes of things that seemed to leer out at him in rebuke: it was a point of pride that he rarely did this, indulging himself like a mindless animal. Though there were whores and spoils of war, Madara himself had kept his physical desires firmly in check. He had always prided himself on his self-control.

The head of his cock slipped against the moistened palm of his hand, and Madara swallowed, letting the weight of his shaft glide in one closed fist. He was stiff and aching, the head of his cock weeping with pre-cum, and already the muscles in his groin and thighs began to tense. He closed his fist tighter around himself, stroking faster, his breath growing loud and ragged. The muscles in his stomach and flanks strained with effort.

When he came, it was with a shuddered breath, penis twitching into his hand. He hunched over, riding out the last few spasms of his orgasm, before straightening. His heart slowed as he steadied his breathing. Ejaculate oozed like old dried blood in his hand.

He wiped his hand with a handkerchief as the wind outside rose in the darkness, a close-mouthed, quiet sound, before standing. Then he grabbed the nearest chair and threw it, shattering it against the wall.

_They were going over a list of suitors, potential allies for a political marriage, Hashi reading off the names while Madara shot them down. "Well obviously no one is good enough for you," Hashi said._

_"I think your brother and I can actually agree on that point," Madara said. He looked out the window. "You should just marry me and be done with it."_

_He regretted it as soon as he said it. Tightening his jaw, he kept his eyes trained at the streaks of dirt smudging the windows. There were Senju guards outside while Uchiha men gathered in the courtyard. He could hear Hashi lowering her papers._

_"...Are you asking me?" Hashi said._

_Madara looked at her. She was dressed as any woman of her time did, with a loose-flowing robe and a small pendant around her neck. Her hair was long, flowing down the curve of her neck and shoulders like unadorned silk. There were callouses marring the palms of her hands._

_"It was in jest," he said, and he looked away from her. "If you ask my opinion, you should ally with the Uzumaki. They are a strong clan. They would complement this village well."_

_He stood up and left before she could give him an answer._


	12. Problems

The woman can't get enough having sex with him.

"Please?" Hashi says. Madara had rolled away from her, pulling the blankets over his head, while Hashi draped her arms around him.

"I am tired. Let me sleep."

"I can get on top," Hashi says. Madara groans and pulls up the covers.

He will never admit it, but he likes how over-the-top and affectionate she is. He'll complain and sigh and roll his eyes but secretly he likes it when she touches him. He had been aching to touch her for so long.

But he is tired, and even though the spirit is willing, the flesh is worn out and disadvantaged by not having the insane amount of chakra reserves his wife apparently has. "Will you please just let me sleep?" he says. Hashi burrows against his chest.

"Fine, fine," she says, and she cuddles against him. It feels nice, and he feels himself drifting into the security and warmth of sleep. She leans over his shoulder and whispers.

"Can we have sex in the morning, though?"


	13. Spar

She wasn't showing the morning of their wedding, but as she gets bigger Tobirama and Madara work diligently to minimize the potential fallout.

Hashi doesn't understand. "We're married now. Why would anyone care?" Tobirama sighs heavily.

"If they find out you conceived a child out of wedlock, there will be a scandal."

His sister is naive. It's strange - in combat she's fast and strong and as leader of their clan, she has a surprising head for strategy and battle tactics. But outside of all that, she's still innocent.

_"I don't have a single brother left. I have nothing to protect. And...I just can't trust you."_

Madara uttered those words lying on his back, Hashi crouching over him while Tobirama stood behind her. "Is there any way I can convince you to trust us?" Hashi asked.

"There is one way," Madara said, and Tobirama saw him staring up at the clouds. "Either kill your brother, or kill yourself right now. Then we will be even."

He knew Madara's words weren't serious. Madara fully expected to die by his sister's hand. And yet Hashi smiled broadly, thanked him for giving her the choice, then held the kunai to her neck, telling Madara she always knew he was a kind man.

Unforgivable. The whole thing was unforgivable. Tobirama had watched and gritted his teeth as his sister fell more and more in love with him.

The morning of the wedding, Tobirama swallowed his anger and helped Hashi wrap on her long kimono. He did this for his sister's sake: there were no women left in their family to help her, and Hashi had about as much experience with these things as Tobirama did. They fumbled with the fabric; unlike her normal ones, the wedding kimono was wrapped tight, so that she could only step forward a third of her normal stride, the white cloth serving as a binder restricting her movement. He pinned her hair in the traditional bridal topknot, then draped her shoulders with a shawl.

"Sometimes I can't help but feel like an older brother," Tobirama said, and in that moment he realized he was fussing over her in place of their father. Beneath the wedding hat, Hashi smiled.

"Thank you for protecting me, Little Brother."

"I will always protect you, my sister."

And he helped her step forward gingerly, guiding her toward the courtyard.

*****

They find out about it by accident: Hashi was going over a few papers when she accidentally gets a papercut.

"Ow," she says, but while before she would immediately start to heal, her finger still keeps bleeding.

"I can see it," Madara says. He activates his Sharingan, staring intently at her stomach. "Our child is siphoning your chakra."

Normally, Hashi's chakra is dense and thick, a powerful layer that emanates from her entire body. With his Sharingan activated, he sees how Hashi's chakra now is perilously thin except for the small bump of her belly, the power of her Mokuton concentrated on growing their baby.

She can't use her Mokuton properly. As an experiment, she claps her hands and tries to do a simple jutsu, but while before large tree trunks would split the earth as they burst forth, now the most she can muster are delicate little vines which wilt as soon as they are conjured. And while before, using her Mokuton did little to deplete her chakra, making those tiny little vines exhausted her.

"She can't use her wood jutsu and she can't heal." Madara has taken the rare step of talking to Tobirama, whose eyes widen in alarm as Madara tells him what's going on. "The woman still insists on training even though she's weakened and vulnerable."

Tobirama strides into the courtyard. That Madara has to ask for his help only underscores the seriousness of the situation. "What the hell are you doing, Sister?" Tobirama says. His voice booms in the courtyard.

Hashi glances up at him. "I'm practicing my katas."

"There's no need to, we're not at war."

Hashi makes a face at him.

They stage an intervention. "This cannot go on," Madara says. He and Tobirama present a united front while Hashi crosses her arms.

"Fine," Hashi says. "If the two of you can beat me in taijutsu, I'll stop." Tobirama and Madara glance at each other.

"At the same time?" Tobirama asks. Hashi nods.

"Woman, I am not going to engage you in combat, you are pregnant, I don't want to hurt you," Madara says. Hashi grins at him.

"I bet you can't even land a single blow."

Tobirama gestures, exasperated, "If that is the case, Sister, it is because we held back to keep from harming you!"

"That's just what you'll tell yourselves after I beat you."

"Aggh," Tobirama rubs his head. Madara's eyes narrow.

They make her wear Tobirama's armor. "Why can't I wear mine?" Hashi says, but they insist, since the blue breast plate is thicker and heavier, they won't fight her unless the baby is protected. She puts on the leather smock, then binds her belly three times with thick strips of leather. Then she puts on Tobirama's breast plate, stumbling a little with the weight.

"I just want you two to realize you're making me fight with a handicap. This is like fifty pounds of armor. I could move better when I was wearing that stupid wedding kimono."

"Hmph. All the more reason we should drop this ridiculous endeavor," Madara says. Tobirama nods.

Hashirama takes a stance. The breast plate is huge on her, rolling on her hips like a soup bowl.

They charge forward toward her, Tobirama throwing a punch, which Hashi blocks before ducking and avoiding Madara's roundhouse kick that comes spinning at her. She ducks, weaves, then spins with a sudden burst of power and gyroscope rotation, punching and kicking, throwing Tobirama over her shoulder and slamming him into Madara.

"Aggh!" They both crash into each other, landing with a thud.

They scramble onto their feet again, Hashi grinning as they take their stance. They run at her again. They punch. She blocks. She ducks, flips, kicks one of them in the face before punching the other.

They stagger, then take a stance.

Hashi lowers her arms. "You two look terrible," Hashi says, looking at the bruise on Tobirama's lower lip and Madara's black eye.

"This proves nothing, Sister. We're holding back because you are pregnant."

"Indeed," Madara says. Hashi huffs.

*****

She's dressed in her normal kimono again, talking with one of her advisors when her hip gives out as she's walking down the stairs.

"It hurts!" Hashi says, and Madara helps her limp and sits her on a chair.

"Your joints are loose because you're pregnant," Madara says. He deactivates his Sharingan.

She stops engaging in combat as she gets bigger.


	14. Brother

"I wonder," Madara says quietly, "if Izuna would think of this as a betrayal?"

Hashi looks up. Madara is standing in front of the little shrine, burning a stick of incense. She rests her hand on her belly and doesn't say anything, just watches quietly as Madara stares into the shadows.

"Perhaps it would have been better if I died," Madara says. He speaks with his back turned toward her, looking at the shrine. "Perhaps it would have been better if you killed me."

The stick of incense burns, bright orange ash gathering beneath the curling white smoke.

Hashi frowns and rubs her belly. There isn't anything she can say when he gets like this. His darkened moods, his feelings of guilt for his betrayal. Izuna made him promise to protect their clan, and now Madara's married to his enemy's leader.

She doesn't need reassurances. She's secure in their relationship; she knows Madara loves her. At the same time, she knows he hates himself for his weakness, for not honoring the memory of his brother.

She starts to leave quietly, to give him space for his private moment, when she feels it: a series of light fluttering in her belly, her baby swimming inside her.

It's the first time she's felt the baby kick. She walks quickly back to the shrine. "Anata, feel this," Hashi says, and she grabs Madara's hand, pressing it urgently against her belly. "The baby's kicking. Can you feel it?"

"I-" Madara stops. A kick. A small little push against his hand.

"We can feel our baby." Hashi beams at him.

Madara stares at her belly. He's quiet for a long moment, his palm flat against her belly. He bows his head, his hair covering his eyes, and Hashi realizes he is crying. She sees the tears rolling down his face.

"Anata?"

"Tch." He wipes his eyes and looks up at her. "The smoke from the incense," he says. "It was getting in my eyes."

She looks up at him, all the love and compassion in her heart aching for him. She wraps her arms around him, leaning her head against his chest. She feels him hesitantly lift his hand, before resting it across her shoulder.


	15. Limerence

He makes love to her in the mornings, cheek pressed against her neck while he moves inside her steadily. There's something comforting in how she allows him to do this, responding to the feel of his hand shyly touching the side of her hip. She'll smile and roll over and wrap her arms around him as he slips inside her, and after he comes, she'll let him rest upon her chest as she holds him. That this act is a comfort to him remains unspoken.

When he attacked the village, it was with naked pain and rage and fury; by all accounts, he should have died by her hand.

But he didn't die, and now he's lying next to her, looking out into the faded shadows of a pre-dawn darkness, uncertainty and loneliness assuaged by the warmth of his old enemy's skin.

*****

Hashi has sex with him at night, kicking down the door and announcing loudly that there's this scroll of sex positions, they look interesting and she wants to try them.

Madara stares at her, gobsmacked, before loudly reminding her that Uchiha Madara is not some tool to pleasure herself with.

"Yes you are. You're my husband."

"Woman, what--"

She kisses him smiling because she loves him, interrupting the diatribe of the man who's always been her family and her best friend.


	16. bumps and stones

He was fighting again in the plainlands: Hashi paced, agonized, as word of Madara's latest exploits reached the heart of the council.

"It is to be expected." Tobirama had said. Hashi wrung her hands while her brother stared at her, as if in rebuke. "Uchiha Madara is a rabid dog. That he chooses now to rampage against the neighboring clans is not a great surprise."

"He has his reasons," Hashi had said, but Tobirama looked at her stonily. "The Hyuuga were making threats against us. He probably went out to negotiate--"

"By eyeballing them into tiny little pieces. Yes, Sister, that is exactly how we should negotiate."

Hashi's mouth thinned, remembering.

There was a sound, the flap of the tent pushed open, and Hashi turned to see Madara limping forward.

"Madara," Hashi said.

Madara looked up. His clothes were wet. Strands of long hair stuck to his back and face.

And then his legs buckled. Hashi rushed forward, taking his weight against her shoulder.

"Dammit, Hashirama--"

"You're injured," Hashi said. Patiently, as if talking to a small and very difficult child. "Let me help you."

Madara scowled. She leaned him against her shoulder, helping him inside. "I'm not even going to ask what it was you were doing," Hashi said.

"I was taking action," Madara said. He winced, limping carefully and sitting at the edge of the bed. "While others waste their words and pray for a solution, I went and I found another way."

"Did you kill anyone?" Hashi said.

"What do you think?"

"I think I shouldn't ask," Hashi said, and she leaned Madara forward.

There was a deep gash just to the left of Madara's breast plate, where a sword or spear had managed to make its way through a crack in the armor. Madara watched her the way a dangerous but wounded animal would, with slitted eyes and chakra simmering just beneath the surface. "I'm going to remove your breast plate," Hashi said, and she gingerly approached him, one hand carefully pressing against Madara's shoulder.

First there was the breast plate, which was dented and scratched. The red paint was chipping in small flakes, and when Hashi removed the arm guards, she could see the distressed places in the leather under-coverings, shallow cuts and frayed ends from where sharp objects had pierced through the metal.

"Raise your arms," Hashi said. With difficulty she pulled off Madara's plate armor and winced when she saw it, the slow spread of dark blood seeping through the fabric of Madara's shirt; he was holding the wound with one tight fist, thin red smears of it dripping against his hand.

"I need to take off your shirt," Hashi said, and she watched as Madara braced himself, tensing slightly as she tugged at the fabric. The shitagi was damp with blood and rain and sweat, and Madara grunted as she pulled it off, the clots in the wound opening, slightly.

"Let me see," Hashi said. Madara scowled, fist pressed against the wound. She gently covered his hand. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

"I am fine," Madara said.

"You're not fine. You're bleeding into the furniture."

Madara glared. Slowly, Hashi unwrapped the soiled bandages covering Madara's wounds.

The gash was long and jagged, sliced hard against the side of Madara's ribs and the meat of his back. But it wasn't deep, and it didn't reach any vital organs. Slowly, Hashi let her fingers map the grain of Madara's skin, feeling currents of chakra flowing like water over bumps of stones.

Madara's muscles were tense. She could see it in how he clenched and unclenched the muscle of his jaw, the strap muscles of his neck tightening with the contact. His hair was matted, sticking to the damp skin of his throat and collarbones, and there was a sharp smell of rain and sweat, which was more pungent when she pushed back the wet tangle of Madara's hair, exposing the line of his neck and back.

"It's not like you to get so injured," Hashi said. She plied a layer of chakra on Madara's wounds, remembering how her mother used to heal her when she was younger: cool hands pressed on scraped knees and bruised egos, a necessary technique when faced with older, more experienced men. "What happened to your Susanoo?"

"I didn't use it," Madara said.

"Why?"

"I decided not to."

Hashi frowned.

There was only so much reading between the lines she could do, but judging from the latest quarrel - unkind words from Madara's own kinsmen, vicious rumors that Madara had willingly stolen his brother's eyes - she could understand why Madara had gone without it. He fought as if he had something to prove.

"You should have used it," Hashi said. Madara glanced up at her, frowning. "I don't like it when you get hurt."

Madara sneered. "Because it makes more work for you?" Madara said.

Hashi's jaw tightened. "Because you're my friend, and I don't like seeing you in pain."

Madara said nothing. Hashi frowned, focusing her attention on the shallow scrapes that peppered Madara's side and flank, the bruises along his collarbone and the boot-shaped welt on his ribs. She moved closer to him, molding her chakra to the shape of Madara's body, whose chakra was disordered and chaotic, electric pinpricks of a thousand tiny silver blades.

Madara leaned close, and Hashi let her hand slide across the ridges of his abdomen, concentrating on a particularly vicious blow to the solar plexus. His chakra was tortured and violent, swirling in turbulent eddies, and Hashi let her hands guide them to a soothing warmth, feeling the tension in Madara's body lessen and slack, until he was physically leaning against her.

"No one touches me like this," Madara said, quietly. "Perhaps my mother, once, when I was a child. But no one has ever sat this close to me, since."

"You don't use healing jutsus in your clan?" Hashi said.

"This is different," Madara said. "I have lost everything, and yet you've stayed by my side," Madara said. Dark eyes flicked upward, unfocused. "Why would you do that? Why waste your time, caring for someone like me?"

Hashi looked at him. His shoulders were hunched. There were deep shadows under the creases of Madara's eyes.

No one trusted Uchiha Madara. Not the Senju, who looked at him with veiled contempt. And not even the Uchiha, whom Madara had sworn to protect. Hashi had seen it herself, in how his kinsmen looked at Madara with slanted eyes, and how the Uchiha of the village openly jeered at him. She looked at Madara, and at the cuts on the knuckles of his hands, and understood that he had nothing and no one. And suddenly, irrationally, she was filled with a quiet rage.

"Who hurt you?" Hashi said.

"It doesn't matter."

"It matters to me," Hashi said, and a shadow fell over Madara's eyes.

"Why are you like that?" Madara said. "Why do you have to care?"

"Because you're my friend," Hashi said again.

"Friend," Madara said. "What exactly is a 'friend'? You toss that term around so easily. Everyone is a friend to Senju Hashirama. Even her enemies are her friends."

"Why are you angry?" Hashi said, and Madara reached for her with a sudden, savage motion, grasping her by the nape of her neck and pulling her forward.

"Idiot Senju," Madara said, and the words were ragged. Harsh. "You are more to me than just a friend. Without you, my life has no meaning. You know not the depths of my feelings for you."

Fingers dug into the back of Hashi's scalp. Dark eyes stared deep into hers, unblinking.

"I feel the same way," Hashi said, and she searched the face that was only a finger's breadth away. "You're my family. You're another brother to me."

The words hung, low-lying clouds of a distant fog. She felt the hand behind her neck drop.

"Of course," Madara said, and Hashi couldn't see his eyes.

*****

Rain lashed against the fur-lined flaps of the tent, and with each gust of wind Madara could see how the darkness of the sky was juxtaposed against the warm orange glow of the fire: dark trees, leaves whipping violently off thin branches, the storm raged in harsh torrents of horizontal rain.

"It's cold," Hashi had said, a few hours earlier, and Madara had glanced behind his shoulder, frowning as she unrolled the sleeping mats matter-of-factly. "You're still wounded. We should share our bed to conserve our warmth. Unless you're uncomfortable with that sort of thing?"

"No," Madara said, and then amended, "I'm not," and he laid down next to her.

Now Madara watched as the shadows moved violently against the fabric of the tent, keeping a measured distance between their bodies and trying to fall asleep. Gingerly, he palmed the crest of his ribs, tracing what would have been the jagged edge of scars were it not for Hashi's expert healing. There was nothing, just a thin line of pink translucent skin, smooth and pale snaking across his body like an arabesque. Though his wounds were healed, there was a dull pain at the seat of his chest, hurt and loneliness like a nagging ache: if he were a brave man, he would drag his fingers into the silk of Hashi's hair and pull her forward, lips finding the tender curve of her neck and jaw.

But he wasn't a brave man, and the confession had fallen in the face of her good intentions. He watched as she slept, the slow rise and fall of her breathing under the blanket, the feel of warm skin pressed against him. Reflexively, he thought of Izuna and how he had stood vigil in his bedroom in the days before his death, and he felt the same ache.

The pain in his heart was like cracking glass, but Hashi sighed in her sleep, and pulled him closer.


	17. bumps and stones, part 2

Night falls over the village, and everything is dark except for the occasional orange light of torches lighting the alleyways.

Madara is unarmed. His Sharingan is active, a reflex leftover from less peaceful times. There is the sound of his footsteps on the dusty path, the call of cicadas and the soft-spoken sounds of people's hushed whispers as they walk to and from the taverns in the dark.

"Uchiha Madara," someone says, and Madara lifts his head.

He is not shinobi. It's the first thing Madara can tell, judging from the man's stance. He is also inebriated, which is obvious even to someone who doesn't have an active Sharingan. The man is broad-shouldered and well-muscled, but probably couldn't coordinate his movements to throw a proper punch. A shinobi child would easily best him. Madara sighs, annoyed, and steps around him.

"Uchiha Madara." The man blocks his path. "We heard what you did to this village."

And as if on cue, a dozen more civilian men step forward, some bearing torches and pitchforks, surrounding him.

Madara is tired. He had just spent the better part of the evening arguing with the village council, now he has to deal with white-knighting idiots who are trying to seek revenge. Probably more than a few of them are secretly in love with Hashirama, Madara thinks, and he smirks to himself. How delusional. As if any of those simpletons are worthy enough to touch her.

"Answer us!" the man says, and Madara sighs loudly.

"I have no time for this foolishness," Madara says. He starts to move but the men block him again.

"What do you intend to do this village?!"

"How dare you dishonor our beloved Lady Senju!"

"Those ninja are chickenshit and we're not afraid of you!"

Madara rubs his head.

If he weren't married - if he were still single and unencumbered, untethered by earnest entreaties such as _please be nice to them_ , and _try to get along with them_ \- he would kill them all where they stand. In fact, he would make a sport of it - how many can he kill with one well-placed stroke? - but the fact of the matter is, Hashirama has a soft spot for village simpletons and would thus be very unhappy with him.

He could genjutsu them - stun them into senselessness and go about his way - but the village council annoyed him and this is the perfect opportunity to relieve some stress. _Let's see if any of them can hit me_ , Madara thinks, and he turns off his Sharingan.

*****

"What the hell happened?" Hashi says.

Madara staggers forward, a thin trickle of blood dripping from the side of his eye. His legs buckle and Hashi shoulders his weight, helping him inside. He gives her a bloody grin: "Don't worry, Hashirama. I didn't kill them."

"Kill who?! Did you antagonize the Uchiha again?!"

"They were civilians," Madara says. He chuckles arrogantly. "Believe me, Hashirama, I would have rather faced the boneheaded ingrates of my clan. But a few farmers were evidently quite offended by my presence. Apparently they thought they could best me."

"The civilians attacked you?!" Hashi says. Madara smirks, nodding.

"Half those fools in the village are in love with you. They probably think you're some damsel in distress because they haven't actually met you."

She gets the story in stops and starts: apparently a group of civilians were drinking heavily and visibly inebriated; one of them made a big show of dominance, leading to an all-out brawl. Madara happened to be passing by when he became the misguided target of their drunken ire. "It is regrettable I got so injured, but it is only because I lost my footing - without the Sharingan it's difficult to fight in the dark."

She has a sudden image of Madara stepping backwards into a pothole, losing his footing just enough to create an opening for a pitchfork-wielding villager to whack him across the face and allow the others to swarm over him. Hashi shakes her head. "Why did you even fight them? Couldn't you have just genjutsu'd them?"

"They disrespected me. How should have I reacted?"

"But you look as if you didn't even defend yourself! How could this happen?"

"I purposefully handicapped myself. I decided to make a sport of it."

Hashi rubs her head.

She helps pull off his tunic, wincing a little at the large welts and bruises peppering the side of his ribs. "I take it the reason why you're so injured is because you didn't go all out on them?"

"Hmph. It is like a grown man fighting school children. It wouldn't give me much satisfaction."

"Your rib is fractured," Hashi says. She presses her palm flat against his skin. "How many were there?"

"A couple dozen, I suspect."

"A couple dozen?!"

"Or perhaps just over thirty."

Hashi coughs. Madara shrugs nonchalantly.

"Please tell me this wasn't some masochistic attempt to punish yourself. The villagers don't know you as I do. I know how much it bothers you."

"You are mistaken if you think I care about the opinions of idiots," Madara says. "I was simply bored."

There is a warm silence, Madara leaning against Hashi as she heals his wounds. Beneath her palm, the bruises recede and the areas of broken skin starts to knit; crusted wounds scab over and peel off, leaving nothing but fresh, translucent skin.

"Have your healing abilities improved?" Madara says. Hashi doesn't look at him, furrowing her brow as she concentrates her chakra beneath her hand.

"Why do you ask?"

Madara frowns. "I distinctly remember you healing me when I was similarly injured, but the process took much longer than this."

"Well, it goes quicker the more contact I have." Hashi smiles at him. "The more I touch you, the more surface area I can heal. I can heal you quicker because you're my husband."

Madara looks away, glaring. "You always touched me. It was troublesome."

"No I didn't - not like this--" and they both turn their attention to her hand pressed flat against his stomach, her forearm resting against his pelvis and thigh. "--I never would have healed you like this."

His hair covers his eyes, but Hashi can see him scowling and blushing. "You have," he says. She slides her hand from his stomach to the crest of his hip. Hashi grins at him.

"You wanna see me heal you really fast?"

"How?" Madara says, and Hashi leans him against her chest, wrapping her arms around him.

"Body contact," Hashi says, hugging him. "It's like sharing warmth inside a bed." She presses a kiss against the side of his neck, smiling at him. "My mother used to do this when I was little. She'd hug me and everything would feel better."

They fall silent. Beneath her palm, the dark purple welts start receding, changing color from violet to yellow to dull-green, until the bruise disappears entirely.

"Hashirama?"

"Hm?"

"Do you remember," he hesitates, "that time, in the tent?"

"Which time?" Hashi says. She's concentrating on a particularly vicious cut above his solar plexus, directing her hands over the blue light of her pulsing chakra. Madara doesn't look at her.

"I had engaged the Hyuuga. You helped me when I was injured."

"Mm. I don't really remember - I've healed you lots of times," Hashi says. Madara lifts his head.

"We were camped in the middle of winter. There was a thunderstorm. We shared a bed for warmth."

"Oh, yeah." Hashi brightens, remembering. Her hands stay warmly on his chest. "I think I remember that. What about it?"

"Tch. Nevermind. It is not important."

"Tell me," Hashi says, and she shifts to look at him. Madara scowls.

"You do not remember. Forget I mentioned it."

She leans against him, resting her cheek on his shoulder. "I think I remember you wanting to kiss me, I think?" Madara looks sharply up at her. Hashi smiles. "Ah, I think it was pretty obvious," she says.

His head snaps upward, the look on his face somewhere between surprise and indignation, before his features settle back into its characteristic scowl: "If it was that obvious, why did you not say anything?"

Hashi smiles. "You were injured pretty badly. I thought you were just woozy and emotional." She leans forward, letting her lips brush against a tender spot against his neck. She smiles against his skin. "Can I tell you something?"

"What is it?"

She hugs him. "You seemed so sad. I used the cold as an excuse to sleep next to you."

He blushes and doesn't look at her. "Is that right?"

"Mm hmm."

"And here I thought I was taking advantage of you. It seems I had no reason to worry," he says.

Hashi giggles softly and hugs him again.


	18. Graze (mature)

In the dark, he feels her lips graze against his neck.

Madara shifts, and he feels Hashi gently kissing his neck. One kiss, pressed softly against the side of his jaw. Another just behind the skin of his ear. He feels the tips of her fingers brushing the back of his neck, pushing his hair out of the way and exposing another patch of skin; he's rewarded with the feel of her soft lips gently brushing against his nape, her arm draping around him.

She can't stop kissing him. He feels her wrapping around his back, the heel of her hand digging into his sternum until she's pulled him onto his back and she's crawling on top of him.

They make love with Hashi on top and Madara on his back, Hashi moving with slow languid strokes and breathing heavily against his neck. His hands settle around her hips and she lets out a soft little moan, until her body jerks and she gasps, her body convulsing with small, sharp pops as she orgasms. She collapses onto his chest and he pushes up into her, thrusting hard and letting out a shuddery breath as he finishes inside her.

They kiss. It's warm and soft and he feels her smile against his neck. Idly, he lets his fingers stroke her hair, dragging his fingertips along the line of her back, before folding her up against his chest and pulling up the covers.


	19. Morning Sickness

Anyone who is leader of a shinobi clan is one who is considered to be the fiercest and the strongest, a ruthless warrior who can dispense with anyone who challenges him.

That Senju Hashirama, the strongest and fiercest of all shinobi, who possesses untold amounts of chakra, wields the Mokuton, and is unmatched in her abilities, is felled by something as insipid as morning sickness, surprises Madara.

"I can't eat anything!" Hashi cries, and she pukes her guts out on the veranda.

Madara holds her hair back, grimacing as Hashi throws up the contents of last night's dinner, which for her was plain noodles and a few sips of broth.

("This is your fault, Sister," Tobirama says, glaring as his as-of-yet unmarried sister manfully tries not to puke in the middle of a meeting. "This is what you get for letting Uchiha Madara seduce you.")

*****

The day of their wedding, Hashi's face is pale.

Three sips of sake. They pass the ceremonial cup from Madara to Hashi, who takes the cup with shaky hands. The smell churns her stomach. She manfully takes a sip, then tries not to barf during the ritual. Madara glances down at her.

"Are you alright? Do you need me to genjutsu you?" He speaks in a low voice, subtly lowering his head.

Hashi holds up her fan, keeping the others from seeing her answer.

"I think you'd better, I think I'm gonna puke."

His Sharingan turns. All of a sudden the nausea passes, and Hashi is able to complete the ceremony without upchucking her guts.

It doesn't last; she throws up violently behind a potted plant while the Senju elders try offering their blessings.

"Dammit," Tobirama mutters. Madara goes around to help her.

*****

She lies sideways on the bed. Every now and then, she'll grope blindly for a basin before throwing up and moaning. In the periphery of her vision, she sees Madara sitting on his knees beside her.

"Ugh." Hashi's eyes crack open as she feels Madara's fingertips brush gently across her forehead. "I think I'm gonna puke again."

He hands her the basin. She throws up piteously, then drags her body out of the futon and onto the tatami mat, dropping her head miserably on Madara's lap.

"Hmph." Madara strokes her forehead. "If I had known this is what it takes to fell the great Senju Hashirama, I would have worked to impregnate you sooner."


	20. Sexy no Jutsu

"You know, I'm not very good at genjutsu," Hashi said.

Madara looked up. It was in the early days after establishing their village, and they were sitting on the floor, trying to devise a ninja curriculum for the village's children. "I think it's important to teach the basics," Hashi had said. "Everyone should have the same foundation."

There was truth to this - the only shinobi who survived into adulthood were the ones who mastered at least one of the ninja arts, and the constant skirmishes had killed countless children.

They came up with three major subjects: genjutsu, ninjutsu, and taijutsu, in addition to basic hand seals and learning to mold chakra. Even children who came from civilian clans would learn. "They'd need to know how to defend themselves," Hashi said. Madara agreed with her.

Now Madara looked up at Hashi, who was on her knees, rearranging papers, frowning at her admission that she couldn't even cast a simple genjutsu. "You can't do genjutsu?" Madara said. Hashi shook her head.

"I'm lucky - I have the Mokuton. I haven't needed to."

Madara leaned back, crossing his arms. "Frankly, breaking out of a genjutsu is more important than casting one," Madara said.

"Oh, you're right! That's definitely something we should teach them." She wrote the subject down on the scroll.

*****

The Hatake clan of the plainlands was a civilian clan, one that specialized in farming. The Uchiha and the Senju were nomadic clans and as such, terrible at farming. It was important to bring a civilian clan into the fold.

"Look at their symbol," Hashi said, and Madara glanced up at their flag, the sectioned diamond that looked like sectioned farmland.

At the meeting, the clan leader and his ministers sat across from them. "We would be interested in entering an alliance," the clan leader said.

"We're happy to hear that. We're prepared to discuss terms," Hashi said. The Hatake representatives glanced at each other.

"When will the Senju representative arrive?" the Hatake representative asked. Madara and Hashi glanced at each other.

"I am here, clan elder. I come on behalf of the Senju. I'm the leader of my people."

The clan leader scoffed. "Is that so?" He smirked, glancing at the other representatives, who broke out in amused laughter.

"Madara-san," the clan leader said, smiling. "When will we meet Senju Hashirama? We've heard many great things about him."

Madara frowned. "You are looking at her," Madara said, and the Hatake representatives guffawed.

"You mean to tell us Senju Hashirama, the most feared shinobi warrior alive, is this little girl sitting in front of us? Who knew the fearsome Uchiha had a sense of humor!"

Madara angrily leaned forward, but Hashi pushed him back.

"Indeed, clan leader," Hashi said, and a shadow fell over her eyes, speaking demurely and lowering her head, "I shall fetch my older brother. I humbly apologize for the inconvenience."

She spoke in the same measured cadence a refined woman of her station would. Madara stared at her.

"Thank you." The clan leader chuckled, heartily.

Madara widened his eyes at her, _Where the hell are you going?_ but Hashi elegantly rose and bowed her head, folding her hands into the sleeves of her kimono and walking with small, graceful steps.

He turned back to the Hatake, completely at a loss and bewildered.

What the hell was she thinking? Madara's mind raced. It was only the two of them traveling - unless her idiot brother could somehow flash-step across the plainlands. It would be easier just to take over their stupid clan and slice the Hatake leader's throat for his insolence.

And then he sensed it: a sudden surge of chakra, the slightest disturbance in the air.

"Gentlemen!"

Madara turned. His eyes widened.

"Ah, Senju-sama," the Hatake leader said, rising. Senju Hashirama strode into the room, laughing heartily.

"You are just as I imagined!" the Hatake leader said, clapping Hashirama on the back. Hashirama threw his head back and laughed, impossibly tall and square-jawed and masculine, his long, flowing hair swinging over his muscular shoulders, filling the room with his mighty presence. 

Eyes wide in shock, Madara turned around slowly, staring at the table and cupping his hands around his eyes like blinders.

*****

"I thought you didn't know genjutsu?"

"I mean, it's not really genjutsu, I just disguised myself with my chakra," Hashi said, and Madara stared, flabbergasted.

"I have the Sharingan," Madara said. "It was even difficult for me to tell you weren't really a man." He paused. "Although you are hardly that feminine to begin with." He frowned at her.

"Why go through the pretense?" Madara said. "You are the most powerful shinobi alive. Those were just civilians."

Hashi shrugged. "If them wanting to deal with a male Hashirama is the price for peace, then I don't mind paying it."

Madara rubbed his head. "And you wonder why you're unmarriageable," he said.

Hashi bowed gravely. She spoke in a lilting cadence, lowering her head.

"Verily, you speak the truth, my lord. My humblest apologies. If it pleases you, I shall bow my head and keep my eyes on the floor in front of me, speaking softly and trailing ten paces behind you so as not to offend you with my presence, and I shall keep my legs close together as I walk so that I may always look refined and elegant, even though walking that way is annoying and stupid."

Madara shook his head.

"You were more convincing when you pretended to be a man."


	21. Sexy no Jutsu, part 2

"Senju-sama. Uchiha-sama. A token of our appreciation."

The Hatake leader clapped, and two beautiful women sauntered out on either side of him.

"They will be your entertainment. Rest well. We shall commence with the talks tomorrow morning."

The two women beckoned seductively. Madara widened his eyes at Hashirama.

"Those girls were really nice!" Hashi said, to an exhausted Madara, who could barely sleep through the giggling and gossiping in the thin-walled room next to his (sex stories. All they were talking about were sex stories. Then they went into graphic detail explaining to Hashi the mechanics of vaginal sex).

At the treaty signing, Senju Hashirama was the picture of male virility, while Madara stared bleary-eyed at the table.

*****

"So, ladies," Hashirama said. The women giggled. "Are we alone?"

Madara rolled his eyes as the women nodded. Hashirama clapped his hands and transformed.

The women gasped. "Wait a second - you're not a man?"

"Ha ha, no! Sorry about the disguise. I wasn't going to sleep with you."

"Oh thank god. You have no idea how relieved we are - every time we entertain, we always have to sleep with them."

They glanced at Madara.

Madara snapped, "I don't care and I wasn't going to, I'm going to my room."

"Goodnight, partner!" Hashi called out. He banged shut the rice paper door. Hashi smiled. "He's always grouchy, don't mind him," Hashi said.


	22. Sexy no Jutsu, part 3

A few days after their battle, Madara walks into the bedroom, then stops abruptly. Hashi is wearing his clothes.

His shirt, to be exact - the hem of the cassock trails around her feet while the high-neck collar droops over her shoulder; when she moves, he can catch a glimpse of her cleavage.

"What are you doing?" he asks. Hashi frowns at the shirt, picking at it.

"I ran out clothes, I need to get the rest of my kimonos," Hashi says. She tugs at the collar. "I didn't realize this would be so big..." She moves and the high slit at the front of the cassock parts, exposing the inside of her bare thigh. Madara has a sudden urge to rub his mouth on the soft skin, and he reddens, awkward and embarrassed.

"...Are you wearing anything underneath?"

"Huh?" Hashi says, but Madara blushes and turns away from her, glaring at the wall. Hashi's face brightens.

"I know!" she says, and she claps her hands.

"AH!" Senju Hashirama says. He grins broadly. "Much better! I couldn't walk around wearing something so large, it would be a tripping hazard! Oh...whoops," he says, as he notices the girth of his shoulders has popped a few stitches around the seams. "I think my shoulders are too broad. This is a little small for someone this muscular."


	23. Return

The trek back to Konoha took longer than expected - they were both still physically exhausted from their battle, and while Hashi's wounds had mostly healed, Madara was limping, obviously still injured but stubbornly insisting on carrying both their things.

"You should have told me you're hurt! Let me heal you," Hashi said, and they sat down on a splintered log that had been felled during their battle.

She helped him take off his shirt. His torso was covered with bruises, deep splotches of blood that had bloomed just beneath the surface. There were cuts and scratches too numerous to count, the jagged white scar tissue from where her chakra fused the stab wound in his back and chest an ugly reminder of what she did to him.

She pressed her hands on either side of him, one flat against his stomach and the other at the small of his back, her chakra pulsing with a soothing warmth.

"I wish I could do something about this," she said, touching the ugly white patch. Madara shrugged.

"I do not mind it," Madara said, and he pulled up his tunic. 

They reached Konoha after a full day's trek. After Hashi spoke with Tobirama and the guards, Madara wordlessly led her back to his compound. He glanced back at her, before unlocking his door.

"There isn't much. I never intended to come back to this place. I considered burning it all, but I decided it wasn't worth the effort: I was planning to destroy the village anyway, after all."

Hashi looked around Madara's house. She remembered when she built it - at the very edge of the village periphery, deep in the forest and isolated from the comings and goings of other shinobi. Madara unlocked the door and led her inside, taking off his sandals and shrugging off his traveling cloak.

Hashi looked around. "You were planning on destroying your house with the village, but you went ahead and locked the door?"

Madara shrugged, then set down his weapons pack, leaning Hashi's scroll next to it. "The bath is in the back," Madara said. He blushed, then turned away from her. "You can use it first."

"Ah, thank you," Hashi said, smiling. She pulled off her armor.

He focused on stacking his weapons and undoing his pack, trying hard to ignore the rustling of clothes and bare feet padding in the room behind him. There was the sound of sloshing water, Hashi lowering her body into the tub, and a satisfied exhale as she sank into the warm water.

He unrolled the extra futon. Briefly he wondered if it would be presumptuous to set it next to his, but then decided a gap between the two of them might be even more offensive. He started pulling the futons so that they were lying right next to each other when Hashi called, "Are there any towels?"

"What?" Madara looked up, and came face-to-face with Hashi's bare chest.

Her skin was wet. Water dripped down the slopes of her shoulders and the teardrop-shaped fullness of her breasts, her nipples pebbled and her skin covered in gooseflesh.

Madara started coughing. Hashi tilted her head at him.

"Eh?" Hashi said. She glanced down at her breasts, then started laughing. "Do these bother you?"

"Why are you laughing?! Why won't you cover yourself?!"

"I can't find the towels. And you saw me naked earlier anyway, why do you care?"

Madara looked up and saw Hashi cupping her breasts. She bounced them a little in her palms, giggling. "Hashirama, dammit--"

He tossed her a towel, which she caught expertly. Hashi smiled innocently.

"Thank you."

"Aggh."

She blew him a kiss and pranced back behind the door.

Madara sank onto the futon, holding his head. His face was red and he was suddenly, shamefully aroused.

She didn't have any clothes other than the battle gear she wore earlier, so he lent her his yukata, which she wrapped around herself, the cloth almost double her length. After he washed himself, he came out and was surprised to see her sitting at the center of the futon, her long hair falling in wet strands by her nape while the side of the yukata slipped off her shoulder. Her legs were curled beneath her; he could see the tops of her breasts spilling out from the deep V of her robe.

Madara cleared his throat. "Hashirama."

"Yes?"

He didn't look at her. "I have no expectations about tonight. We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Hashi blinked. "What do you mean?"

He blushed. "I mean, I would be happy enough just to hold you."

Hashi beamed at him and held out her arms.

He lowered himself on his knees, and all at once she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him on top of her. He landed on her torso with a thud, and Hashi laughed, kissing his forehead and settling him on her chest. She pulled the blanket over the both of them, curling her leg over his hip and kissing the side of his neck.

"Hashirama--"

"I was hoping we could do it again," she said. She met Madara's eyes and smiled shyly at him.


	24. Gossip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of rape.

They call a special meeting, just Hashi and a small coterie of Senju advisors.

"What is it?" Hashi asks. Her baby squirms, so she bounces the baby against her chest. The Senju advisors look nervously at each other.

"How goes your marriage?" one of the ministers asks. Hashi beams.

"It's going well!" Hashi says. The baby gurgles. Hashi pokes the baby's cheeks, smiling. "We're still not quite used to the whole not-sleeping thing, this cutie here really likes to eat!"

"Ah," the minister says, and the other Senju advisors glance at each other.

Something's wrong. Hashi shifts the baby to her other arm. "What is it?" she asks. The advisors' eyes dart furtively.

"We never gave our thanks," one of the ministers says. "You've done so much to protect our village. Even if you're not Hokage, you will forever have our gratitude."

"I'm happy to defend our village, and do whatever I can to keep the peace," Hashi says, frowning. "What is this about?" she asks. The ministers glance at each other.

"Hashirama-sama," a minister says. "It has to do with the timing of your baby."

"Eh?" The baby squirms. Hashi shushes her. "What about my baby?"

"Hashirama-sama," the minister says. "You gave birth only six months after the wedding ceremony."

"Oh." Hashi smiles awkwardly, "She wanted to come out, she just came early."

"Our healers agree, the child came out before the point of viability." The ministers frown nervously at each other.

"What the others are saying," another minister says, as he steps forward, "is that if we trace the child's birth nine months back, she would have been conceived around the time of your battle."

Crap. Crap, crap, crap, _crap_. Tobirama was going to kill her.

"Did he...did he force himself on you?"

Huh?

"Child, there is no need to pretend. We all know what you sacrificed in marrying him."

Hashi steps back. "What? No! It wasn't a sacrifice, elder. I love him!"

The baby starts to cry. Hashi shushes her, rocking her against her chest.

"You married him to protect our village," the elder says. "The Uchiha have formally denounced him. If not for your union, he would be exiled for treason."

"Indeed," the minister says. "We only wished to speak with you because there is precedent, Hashirama-sama, that if he forced himself upon you, and you married him because of your condition, that marriage can be annulled, and we can formally excommunicate him."

Hashi stares. "The reason why he attacked in the first place was because he felt the Uchiha turned their backs on him. Now you're asking me to annul my marriage and kick him out again?"

"He left freely of his own will after being denied a seat of power," the elder says. "We know the only reason why he hasn't razed our village is because of your political marriage. We only wish to tell you...if something were to happen to him...if perhaps the opportunity presented itself, and you were able to subdue him...."

"We are only saying, if that were to happen, you have the full support of this council, and those actions would be fully sanctioned."

"You're asking me to kill my husband?" Hashi says.

"We're only saying that we understand your hesitation, but the fact that you have a child need not bind you to him."

Hashi holds their baby tight against her chest. "If he goes, I leave with him."

"Hashirama-sama--"

"I have no intention of leaving my husband. Please do not speak of this again."

The elders fall silent, frowning at each other.

*****

Rumors spread that Uchiha Madara raped her at the Valley of the End. "I bet she was so ashamed, she had to marry him," they whisper. They look at Hashi sympathetically. "It wasn't enough to sacrifice herself for the village. The monster had to humiliate her, too."

"What?" Madara says, when Hashi tells him. "Do those imbeciles at the council not realize it is nigh impossible to beat you? I suppose I should take that as a compliment and read it as a reflection of my battle prowess."

"They said if it was rape, it could be grounds for the dissolution of our marriage."

"Do you wish to leave me, then?"

"Of course not!"

"Then there is nothing to worry about."

"They think I'm biding my time until I kill you," Hashi says.

"Well you are a woman, it would not be unheard of for you to do a honey trap," Madara says.

"How are you not bothered by this?" Hashi says. Madara shrugs.

"The stupidity of the council is beneath my notice," Madara says.

"There's more," Hashi says.

"Is there, now?"

Hashi bites her lip. "They think we have a loveless marriage."

"And?" Madara says.

"And?! And I was worried sick you'd hear those rumors and think that's how I really feel about you!"

Madara shrugs. "You are the mother of my child. Surely you don't think I'd be so dimwitted as to believe the flight of fancies of idiots over my own wife," he says, but he sees Hashi growing more and more upset, and he softens.

"I am used to this," Madara says, gently. "They said the same thing after Izuna died."

Hashi looks up at him, stricken. Madara smiles.

"It is better, this time," Madara says. He gently fans his thumb across her cheek. "At the very least, I have my wife."

Hashi clasps her hand over his, pressing his knuckles against her cheek.

"What about our baby? I told them she was just early, but they didn't believe me," Hashi says. Madara smirks.

"Perhaps you should just tell them we had sex in a cave, since apparently that is beyond their imagination."


	25. Babysitting

"You used genjutsu on our baby?!"

Madara backs away slowly while Hashi's chakra flares, the strength of her killing intent all but flattening the entire room. "It was just to help her sleep," Madara says, but her chakra flares and she is nothing but two red eyes and a black silhouette, her hair whipping violently upward by gusts of fiery chakra.

Tobirama is at their doorstep, about to deliver Hashi some papers, when a part of Madara's Susanoo crashes through the door.

"You two are incompetent," Tobirama says, and he pulls the baby to his chest, surveying the damage - his sister, obviously fraught and sleep-deprived, while Madara instinctively reacts to the threat of looming violence by reflexively activating his Sharingan. "Let me take her."

Hashi protests, "But she needs to nurse, you can't take her!"

Tobirama snaps, "I'm doing it before you two accidentally destroy the village. Look at your house," Tobirama says, and they look at the upturned furniture and bits of detritus. Random tree trunks jut through the floor, peppering the house.

*****

"You look like him," Tobirama says to the baby. He frowns. "How unfortunate. You will grow to be an ugly woman."

The baby yawns, then stretches, opening its tiny rosebud mouth.


	26. A Story

Night fell over the wasteland of the valley, and the Uchiha huddled into themselves, a clan of fire-breathers unused to a cold that seemed to soak through the thick linen tents and heavy plates of armor. Morale was low, and thanks to the Senju, their numbers were all but decimated.

They were gathering the dead. Slowly they stacked the bodies into a makeshift funeral pyre, the survivors shivering as they tried to muster enough chakra to perform their fire jutsu.

Twenty breaths, and the pyre was alight. The survivors stood vigil watching, the orange fire reflecting in the red pools of their eyes.

They burned their dead so no one could steal their eyes. It was a grim practice - shinobi clans raided battlefields and targeted their women and children, harvesting their eyes in hopes of capturing their Sharingan. Even among the Uchiha themselves, transplanting eyes was a taboo practice. It was not to be done except in the most desperate of circumstances.

"Did you hear? Madara and Izuna both awakened the Mangekyou."

The shinobi sat around the fire, raising their heads. Only a handful of Uchiha were powerful enough to awaken the Mangekyou, and all of them lost the light in their eyes. There were legends of an Eternal Mangekyou, which could only be attained by stealing another Mangekyou user's eyes, but the whole thing of it just seemed ghoulish.

One of the Uchiha poked a stick in the fire. "Legend has it, you can only awaken the Mangekyou if you kill someone you love. Who did Madara and Izuna kill?"

"No one, dummy. They attained it after losing their brothers."

"Do you think they will fight each other to see who will become leader?"

"I doubt it. Izuna loves too much his older brother."

The current Uchiha leader had fallen ill, and several among the ranks jostled to prove themselves the strongest. None of them held a candle to Madara and Izuna, who were hostile and ambitious and in terms of raw power were leagues above the ninjutsu of the rest of the Uchiha clan.

It was a given that Uchiha Madara would be the one to assume the mantle.

*****

They spoke in hushed whispers about the Senju leader.

"I heard him speak, once. His voice hasn't even broken," the Uchiha said.

"I heard he is younger than Senju Tobirama, his brother. I heard he's only leader because he awoke the Mokuton."

"I heard he was friends with Uchiha Madara," another Uchiha said, and everyone scoffed at that, because while few people saw Senju Hashirama themselves, the ones who engaged him and lived to tell the tale always described him as a ferocious but young boy, just barely on the cusp of manhood. Madara was already a man.

*****

The sky was overcast, and the battleground was littered with dead or dying Uchiha shinobi. The survivors were surrounded by Senju warriors, certain they too would meet their deaths.

The Uchiha captain saw it before even Madara did: how Senju Tobirama distracted Izuna with his kunai, before flash-stepping forward and slicing him with his sword.

"Izuna!" Madara threw down his weapons and ran toward him.

There was a sound, and the captain whirled around to see Senju Hashirama had leapt toward them.

"Madara," Hashirama said, and the Uchiha captain was surprised at how young he sounded. "You cannot defeat me."

Madara gritted his teeth. The Uchiha captain's eyes widened. Their leader was just a boy, a child whose voice hadn't yet changed. Behind him, Madara's grip on Izuna tightened.

"Why don't we end this?" Hashirama said. "If the two strongest shinobi clans, the Uchiha and the Senju, form an alliance, nations will not be able to find other clans that could stand against us. The conflict will eventually start to lessen. Come on," he said, and he held out his hand. "Join me."

The captain could see it. The hesitation in Madara's eyes.

*****

The night of Uchiha Izuna's death, Uchiha shinobi stood vigil outside his tent. It was eerily quiet, and other than the flickering torchlight, there was no movement.

"We will prepare the funeral pyre for his body," an Uchiha lieutenant said, and his foot soldiers nodded, grimly.

An Uchiha sentry peered into the tent. He saw the orange glow of candles and animal pelts, the small basin of water by Izuna's bed.

Uchiha Madara was kneeling with his back toward him. The Uchiha sentry could see him clasping his brother's hand.

"Madara-sama?" the sentry said, and Uchiha Madara turned.

Blood. It was the first thing the sentry saw; blood saturated the cloth covering Izuna's face, two dark splotches slowly spreading in the fabric. In the basin, there were two round globes of Sharingan eyes, translucent like jelly bobbing obscenely in the water, and it was then the sentry realized that Uchiha Madara had desecrated his own brother's body.

Madara smiled slowly, his Mangekyou spinning. Blood trickled down his eyes like tears.

No one can describe the horror the Uchiha felt when Madara emerged, wearing his brother's eyes. They stared at him in disbelief as he told everyone he had attained the Eternal Mangekyou. "In this way, we will get revenge," Madara said. He gripped his battle fan. "In this way, we will avenge our fallen brothers and our clan."

The Uchiha glanced among each other, uneasily. Soon, people were whispering that Uchiha Madara had gone mad.

*****

The Uchiha defected. One by one, they slipped away from the Uchiha camp, surrendering themselves to Hashirama's men. Heads bowed, their sharingan deactivated, they prostrated themselves on the ground and begged for the Senju to spare them.

The Senju accepted them. The Uchiha defectors were surprised - though some lower-ranked Senju eyed them with suspicion and thinly veiled contempt, their leader openly welcomed them. "We accept all refugees, civilian or shinobi, who want for peace and seek the Senju's protection." The Senju leader stood, standing with his back facing the cliffsides, and the Uchiha glanced at each other.

Senju Hashirama sounded young. He was short-statured and his voice hadn't yet broken.

The rumors were true: the Senju leader was barely on the cusp of manhood. It was no wonder why he was so hellbent on peace. He was filled with the boundless optimism of youth.

*****

The former Uchiha captain was fixing his tent, speaking amiably with his men and stabling his horses, when a few Senju guards approached him.

"You were a captain of the Uchiha clan, correct?"

"I was," the captain said. The Senju nod at him.

"Senju Hashirama would like a word."

The captain dusted off his hands and followed them, walking through the line of tents and the scattered shinobi working next to them.

"Hashirama-sama." The Senju guard pushed open the flap of the tent. "The Uchiha captain is here to see you."

"Send him in," the young boy said, and as the captain stepped inside his eyes widened.

Long, black hair fell in loping tresses along the graceful curve of a woman's neck, while a cream-colored haori draped gracefully over a simple green kimono. 

"You're a woman." The captain stared, slack-jawed and wide-eyed, as Senju Hashirama smiled at him, resting on her knees and offering him tea.

"I am indeed," she said. She poured him a cup, moving on her knees to pass it to him. "My brother was supposed to lead, but given my Mokuton, he decided I should lead instead." She spoke demurely, her eyes lowered, serving an Uchiha traitor tea as if she were a lower station. It was natural for her to - she was a woman.

"Lady Senju, I must apologize. All this time we thought you were a young boy."

"A common misconception," she said, smiling, and the captain could see how her eyes were fringed with dark lashes. He lowered his eyes and shifted on his knees.

"I can understand now why you've accepted us," the captain said. "You lead with a woman's grace. I doubt any man in your position of power would be half as kind."

"I have no desire to subjugate you. We are home to anyone who seeks shelter."

"Thank you, Lady Senju," the Uchiha captain said. She smiled. Bowing her head, she pushed back few strands of dark hair behind her ear, the tips of her small fingers brushing against her temple. Her features were small and birdlike, almost delicate, and her dark eyes were warm like the shadow of trees.

"There is a reason why I asked to meet with you." Her eyes flicked upward. "We've gotten word from our allies to the North that the nobles of the Wind Country have plans to invade. They hired the Uchiha to be their proxy army."

The Uchiha captain sucked in his breath. The Senju leader smiled.

"Please be assured, no one expects you to fight your kinsmen. All I ask is that you stay behind and protect the civilians."

"Of course," the Uchiha captain said. How odd - any other leader would force the defected to fight for them, a way of demoralizing their enemies and providing easy cannon fodder as a distraction.

"Lady Senju," he said, as the Senju leader started to rise, "May I ask a question?"

"Of course," she said. The Uchiha captain hesitated.

"Why are you helping us?" he asked. She lowered her eyes.

"I too have people precious to me on the other side."

****

There was a brief but shaky alliance, Uchiha Madara and the Senju woman shaking hands while the men of both clans silently watched them.

The treaty didn't last. The Uchiha elders grew more and more alarmed as Madara ranted and stormed angrily through the compound, insisting the Uchiha were being mistreated.

"Come with me," he said to the elders. "They will only harm us. The Uchiha are in danger. We have no choice but to leave." The elders' eyes narrowed.

"The only one who needs to leave is you, Uchiha Madara."

He left. And then, one day, he attacked them.

*****

Word got out that in order to ensure the safety of their village, the Hokage negotiated with Madara and reluctantly agreed to enter a political marriage.

"It is to be expected." The council spoke in hushed whispers, watching with worried eyes as their Hokage solemnly gave them her decision. She would not ally with the Uzumaki clan, as was promised. She would sacrifice herself to tame him.

"He promised to cease all hostilities if they engaged in a political marriage." The Uchiha whispered. Senju Hashirama bowed her head, then gravely intoned that she would no longer be Hokage, she would pass along the title to her brother.

*****

They had always viewed Madara with increasing suspicion. He was arrogant and power-hungry, and he was a threat to the village. Rumors about him stealing his brother's eyes gave way to the hushed whispers that, "I was there at the morning of their wedding ceremony," how Madara looked on, his face a stony mask, while Hashirama bowed her head, moving stiffly and not speaking. The witnesses swore her face was ashen and pale.

*****

The rumors grew when they found out she was pregnant.

Rumor had it that he raped her at the Valley of the End.

*****

Silently, they admired how Senju Hashirama made the best of her situation.

She smiled. She walked beside him and tried to curry favor with him, which Madara ignored with stony indifference. The only thing she was good for was access to her leadership, but since she had abdicated, the marriage was wasted.

"Child," an Uchiha elder said, touching Senju Hashirama gently on her arm. "There is no need to pretend. We all know what you sacrificed in marrying him."

Hashirama's eyes widened. "What? No! It wasn't a sacrifice, elder. I love him," and the elders looked on at her sadly, at the lies she had to tell herself to stay with him.

"What will you do with her?" the elders demanded. Uchiha Madara arrogantly lifted his head.

"What I do with that woman is none of your concern."


	27. Planetary Devastation

"I need to show you something," Madara says, as Hashi puts their baby to bed.

They sit on their knees across from each other. "Look into my eyes," Madara says.

Hashi watches. At rest, Madara's eyes are so dark they look almost black, the irises almost the same color as his pupils. He closes his eyes, then opens them.

"Sharingan," he says. His eyes are red. He closes his eyes, then opens them. "Mangekyou Sharingan." He closes his eyes again, then opens them.

"Rinnegan," Madara says, and Hashi gasps, staring at him.

"I know about this." Hashi leans forward, gently touching the side of his eyes with her fingertips. "They say the Sage of the Six Paths wielded this. No one's seen the rinnegan in a thousand years."

Madara tilts his head. "The same could be said about your Mokuton," Madara says. He closes his eyes, and they are black again. Their eyes meet and Hashi blushes suddenly. Madara smiles.

"Did you just now awaken it?" she asks. Madara shakes his head.

"I awoke it the moment you cut me with your sword, before my supposed death at the end of our battle." A shadow falls over his eyes.

"I awoke my Sharingan when I lost my friendship with you," Madara says. "I awoke my Rinnegan when I thought I was abandoned by you."

"I'm so sorry, everything that happened was my fault, I should have--"

"Moron, I'm telling you this so you'd understand," he glares and doesn't look at her, "that I owe the power of my eyes in part because of you."

She looks up at him and he scowls, embarrassed. Hashi grins, crawling close to him.

"I love you too," she says, smiling. He glares but she hugs him. "Why didn't you show me this before?"

"It wasn't worth mentioning; I wasn't sure I could reactivate it." Madara strokes her head. "However, a few village idiots came at me hurling abuse, and it triggered a jutsu of the Rinnegan."

Hashi blinks. "What jutsu?"

*****

"The lunatic summoned an _asteroid_ in the middle of the entire village! Do you not understand the damage he's inflicted?!" Tobirama rages while Hashi looks up at the massive asteroid cratered on the ground like a sunken mountain.

"Well at least no one was injured, he protected everyone with his Susanoo, it was an accident--"

"Only a lovestruck fool would call that an accident. He is terrorizing the villagers on purpose."

Madara strolls behind them, surveying the damage. A few villagers gawk at him. He turns and they shriek, ducking for cover.


	28. Eyes

"Brother," Izuna said. His voice was ragged. He breathed with sharp, shallow breaths. "Brother. Promise me you'll avenge my death."

Madara's face was tight. He looked down at his baby brother, whose eyes were bruised and whose skin was damp with a cold sweat. His lips were chapped. Blood crusted along the corners of his eyes.

"I will not entertain such foolishness, Little Brother," Madara said, and Izuna made a thin laugh like a wheeze, looking up at him. "The wound is not deep. You will be fine."

"We both know my wound is infected, Brother," Izuna said. His lips twitched into a thin smile. "My vision dims when I try sitting upright. I fear I may already have a blood infection."

Madara watched him, stricken. Nothing got past Izuna's eyes, which were just as sure and strong as Madara's. "We will get the healers," Madara said, but Izuna took in a breath, shaking his head. Madara gripped his hand.

"You should take my eyes." Izuna's eyes flicked upward. "Older Brother. Your vision is starting to fade, I know it. Even though you've been trying to hide it--"

"Little Brother, my vision is fine--"

"--take my eyes and transplant them," Izuna said. "And maybe you'll awaken the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan."

Madara squeezed his eyes and hung his head, his hair covering his face. His teeth clenched as tears dripped down his face.

"You should do it soon, Older Brother, while I'm still alive."

"Dammit, Izuna. You have the Mangekyou Sharingan, how could you not see him?"

Izuna gave him a weak smile. "It was my own fault for not guarding my blind spots."

"Dammit." Madara made an agonized sound, hunching over.

*****

_Izuna, I'm sorry. I couldn't avenge your death._

Madara was on his back, his eyes once again black and his chakra dangerously depleted. Above him, the sky was a brilliant blue. Everything was quiet except for the sound of gulls and his shaky breathing.

Footsteps. Dully Madara was aware of Senju Tobirama coming into his field of vision, holding the same sword that killed Izuna above Madara's chest.

"Wait, Tobirama," Hashi said.

On the ground, Madara tried to lift his head. From the periphery of his vision, he could see the woman squatting on the ground next to him. Tobirama gestured angrily.

"Why, Sister? This is our chance to kill him--"

"No one touches him," Hashi said.

Tobirama stepped back. Madara could see how her face was split in anger.

"Just get it over with, Hashirama," Madara said. "It would be an honor to die by your hand." The woman's eyes narrowed.

"Stop posturing. If I kill the leader of the Uchiha clan, it will only make your followers wish to avenge you." She knelt forward, leaning over him.

"Why don't we end this?" she said. "We said we'd create the ideal village someday. We made a promise, remember?"

Madara swallowed. The only promise that mattered was the one he made to Izuna.

"I wanted to build our settlement so I could protect my younger brothers. I don't have a single brother left. I have nothing to protect. And...I just can't trust you."

"Is there any way I can convince you to trust us?" Hashi asked.

"There is one way you can show your resolve," Madara said. He looked up at the clouds. "Either kill your brother, or kill yourself right now. Then we will be even. I'd be willing to trust your clan."

He wasn't serious. If he weren't injured, they would know that he was mocking them. She and her brother would exchange glances and she would realize he truly did mean to die by her hand.

His lungs hurt. His eyes drifted away from the two Senju crouching above him. He could at least take comfort in joining Izuna.

But Hashi stood, and loosened the straps to her armor. "Thank you, Madara," Hashi said, smiling. "You really are a kind man."

"Sister, what are you doing?" Tobirama said, as she shucked off her breast plate. Madara's eyes widened slightly as Hashi held the kunai to her neck.

"Don't you see, Little Brother? He gave me an option where I wouldn't have to kill you. He knows how older siblings feel towards their younger brothers."

"Sister, this is madness! Are you really listening to this lunatic? He isn't serious, he's expecting you to kill him--"

"Enough," Hashi said, straightening. Tobirama started forward but she held up her hand, looking out at the other Senju.

"Listen well, for these are my last words," Hashi said. "After my death, do not kill Uchiha Madara. I forbid any fighting between the Uchiha and the Senju. Swear this now, upon your ancestors and your children and grandchildren who are yet unborn. Etch these words into your hearts, for I am exchanging them for my life."

Madara's eyes tracked toward her, in disbelief. Tobirama was stricken. Wordlessly Hashi walked toward him, then pressed her forehead against his.

"You were always the one meant to lead, Little Brother," Hashi said. She looked up at him, searching his eyes. "Thank you for protecting me."

"Sister." Tobirama took a hushed breath. Hashi lingered, then gave him one last squeeze, before turning and holding the kunai to her neck.

"Farewell."

The blade moved as if in slow motion. Even then, half-dead and chakra perilously thin, Madara thought, _why won't she kill me?_ and then, _she's actually taking me up on this?_ and in that split second he realized Senju Hashirama truly was a stupid woman, and he lunged forward and grabbed her hand.

*****

  
Little Brother. Did I fail you?

He stood in front of the shrine, lighting a stick of incense. He watched the rising curl of smoke, and silently begged forgiveness for not avenging him.


	29. Birth

The next contraction comes, and Hashi's face twists in a scream.

"Good, good, you're doing fine, keep going." The midwives speak in soothing tones while Hashi bears down and sobs, her skin damp with bright sweat and her hair sticking in long pieces to her forehead.

Pain. It comes in a crashing wave, sharp and burning, wrenching everything in its path. Hashi squeezes her eyes and lets out an anguished scream, the midwives pushing on her legs, "good, good, keep pushing, you're doing great, push, push."

"I can't." Hashi starts to sob. "I can't, I can't."

"You're doing well, keep going."

"I can't!"

Another scream tears through her, tears streaming down her face. Her grip on Madara's hand is so strong it can crush bone.

Madara watches, every muscle in his body tense, battle ready. But he can't do anything. Hashi screams again and the midwives rush toward her, and Madara sucks in his breath, growing more and more anxious.

Hashi starts sobbing. Madara's jaw tightens. He has never felt so helpless before.

The midwives push in front of him, "You're doing well, keep going, push."

One last push, her body bearing down with effort, and the baby finally slips out of her and into the midwife's arms.

Madara's eyes widen. The baby is shiny and wet like a newborn gelding. Its face crunches as it starts to cry.

"My baby." Hashi grips his hand. "Anata, our baby..."

She starts to laugh, still crying, exhausted, as the midwife swaddles the baby and hands it to her. Hashi chokes back a laugh between sobs.

"Put her to your breast, like this," the midwife says, and she adjusts Hashi's robe.

Quiet. It's just the three of them now, Madara and Hashi and the baby. He watches, awestruck, as the baby's tiny mouth roots blindly until it latches onto her breast, eyes closed and suckling deeply.

"She's so soft," Hashi says. She strokes the baby's cheek. "She looks like you."

Madara bends forward. The baby's skin is fair and fine dark hair falls in choppy wet curls. Tentatively, he lets his fingertips graze the baby's head, and he's struck by how soft her skin feels. Like warm velvet, but more delicate.

"Thank you," Hashi says, and Madara lifts his eyes. She beams at him. "Thank you for giving me our baby."

"Tch." Madara looks away from her. She beams and squeezes his hand.

She falls asleep. She breathes deeply as the baby sleeps soundly in the bassinet next to the bed, and Madara is struck with the realization that he now has two people he has to protect.

Outside, the night is dark except for the frosty moonlight, which filters through the window and traces the curve of Hashi's body. Quietly, Madara pulls a chair beside the bed, looking out across the room and at the shapes of things in the darkness, before sitting beside his family and snuffing out the candle.


	30. Another Problem

They take away her toy. The child's eyes change in rapid succession.

Sharingan. Mangekyou Sharingan. Rinnegan.

"Won't she go blind?!" Hashi says, as Madara cackles exuberantly at the genius of his firstborn daughter.

"Do not worry, Hashirama. If she loses her sight, I'll give her my eyes."

"Please don't say that, that makes it even worse!" Hashi says, and the baby wails and spits out fire.

*****

He holds the baby up by the armpits, looking at her. "She will be even more powerful than both her parents," Madara says, and he's so gleeful even Hashi thinks he looks positively psychotic. "I will teach her how to control it. And if those nitwits in the council bother her, she and her papa will raze the village!"

Hashi crosses her arms. "If she didn't have any of our abilities, would you still love her?"

"That is a ridiculous question." Madara sniffs. "She is a superior being by virtue of being Uchiha Madara's child."

"Ugh."

"Do not worry," Madara says. "Even if she were talentless, I would love her regardless. I'd just feel sorry for her for taking after your brother."


	31. Uzumaki

"Whatever you do," Tobirama says, as he straightens Hashi's kimono and turns her around, fluffing out her hair, "Do not mention your marriage to Uchiha Madara. We are already in a precarious position with the Uzumaki ever since you ended your engagement. The last thing we need do is provoke them."

" _Hai, hai,_ " Hashi says. Tobirama looks at her.

"I'm serious, Sister! If they bring it up, tell them he forced your hand and you did it for the sake of the village. Do not let on that for some inexplicable reason, you're actually happy with him."

"I know, I won't," Hashi says. Tobirama puts on his Hokage cap, frowning at her.

They meet the Uzumaki envoy at the village gates: Uzumaki Makoto, the man who was to be Hashi's husband, along with his sister Mito and a handful of advisors. He smiles broadly as they greet each other. "Ah, Tobirama-kun," Uzumaki Makoto says. "I see you're now Hokage."

"Due to an unfortunate chain of events, as I'm sure you've heard." Tobirama shifts, frowning. The Uzumaki turns to Hashi.

"We got word you had your baby," Uzumaki Makoto says. He smiles. "Felicitations."

"You have my thanks, Makoto-dono," Hashi bows, speaking in a soft, lilting cadence, since her brother practically begged her to and she figured she probably owed him.

"We are happy for you, Hashirama-san. It is so rare these days to see actual love matches."

Hashi straightens, startled. Tobirama blinks.

"Oh you're quite mistaken, Makoto-san," Tobirama throws Hashi a warning look. "She did what she had to, to protect our village."

"Is that so?" Uzumaki Makoto rubs his chin. "I could have sworn it was a love match from the way she looked at him--"

Tobirama throws Hashi a look. _What the hell did you do?_ Hashi raises her eyebrows and mouths back at him. _I don't know._

"And please. There is no need to be so formal," the Uzumaki says to Hashi, smiling at them. "We all know of the great Senju Hashirama's exploits. I would hope that we're close enough allies that you could speak to me as you normally would."

"Oh thank god," Hashi says, dropping the pretense. Tobirama widens his eyes at her. 

*****

They are laughing in the great hall, Uzumaki Makoto regaling them with stories of his exploits. Red hair and bright blue eyes, he's the complete opposite of Madara, who is dark and brooding, while the Uzumaki radiates optimism like a beam of sunshine.

Tobirama bristles at the injustice of it. When he brokered their engagement, Hashi gushed over him like a bubbling idiot. "He's so _hot_ ," Hashi had said, squealing, while Tobirama looked on smugly at Madara, who had been silently seething behind her.

His sister is now a married woman, but her original assessment is unchanged. "Waah! I forgot how hot he is!" she says.

She and Madara are standing in the gallery, Madara holding their baby while Hashi openly gawks at the Uzumaki. "Look at his shoulders!" Hashi says. She hits Madara's arm excitedly. "Ne, anata? Isn't he good-looking?" Madara glares.

"Why are you asking me this? Are you so dense as to not realize how offensive that is?"

"His eyes are so blue, they're gorgeous! Look how they sparkle! And look at those dimples when he smiles!"

"And here I'd forgotten how taken you were with the Uzumaki idiot. How unfortunate."

"I think you're cute, too." Hashi hugs him. "It's cute how you're always frowning, and how your hair is always a mess and how you have bags under your eyes even if you're not tired--"

"Dammit."

"--and you've got pretty hands, just like a woman's!"

"How is that a compliment?" Madara says, and Hashi gloms on him.

"Anata, look," Hashi says, and they both look over at Tobirama, clad in ceremonial Hokage robes and silently watching Uzumaki Mito.

Hashi grabs Madara's arm. "I think he likes her," Hashi says. Madara scoffs.

"The Uzumaki's sister?"

"She's so fancy, he totally likes her!"

"I think I'm losing brain cells the longer we have this conversation," Madara says.

*****

"Little Brother!" Hashi says. She bursts through the office door. "You should totally go after Uzumaki Makoto's sister!"

"Uzumaki Mito?" Tobirama looks up from his papers, then scowls. "She is a woman of high renown. Surely she has plenty of suitors."

"She's really pretty~~" Hashi says, sing-song. Tobirama blushes and glares.

"Wait, are you blushing?!" Hashi runs over to the desk. Tobirama glares and pulls away from her. Hashi claps her hands over her mouth.

"Little Brother, you really are blushing!"

"Quiet. I have much to do and no time for this lunacy. And that is besides the point, they've already signed the treaty, a marriage alliance would be superfluous."

"You're going to get married and have lots of babies~~"

"Dammit," Tobirama says. Sometimes she really does feel like a younger sister.


	32. Cave (mature)

There was violence in his every movement, in how his hands tangled into hers and pressed her knuckles flat, the tender skin scraping back and forth against the cavern floor as his weight ground down and rocked with his movements. The cave was cold and there was the sound of dripping water and flesh smacking against flesh, the soft wet sounds of his thrusts and their heavy breathing. All he could focus on was how good she felt, the pleasure building until he came with a stuttered gasp, pulsing hard and sinking against her torso.

Regret. It washed over him as soon as the last dregs of his orgasm faded, and as he pushed himself upright his heart stilled as he saw it: Hashirama's head turned sideways, the tender line of her neck bruised and the fabric of her shirt bunched up from when he had mauled and pinched her breasts. There were angry red marks and indentations from where his shirt had wrinkled and pressed into her skin.

His voice cracked, shaky. "Forgive me," he said, and he was filled with self-loathing, humiliated. She turned her head to look at him, then gently touched his cheek.

"Why?" she said. She smiled, searching his eyes. "I love you."

His eyes grew dark and wet, and he buried his face into her neck lest she should see them. He felt her slender arms wrapping around his back as she murmured soft reassurances, words breathed softly between gentle kisses, holding him still inside her.

They parted after a long moment, and silently he pulled back on his clothes.

There was nothing but awkward, untouching silence. He took his perch by the corner of the cave as he watched his old enemy slowly fix herself. A tugging of her shirt, the adjustment of her breast plate. The leather arm guards pulled up beneath her armor.

"I think I need to wash by the river just to the south of us," Hashi said. She stooped over, picking up her sword. "I can't wait until we get out of here and go somewhere indoors.

"Anata?" she asked, and she turned, a splash of brackish sunlight cutting a swath against her face. "What's wrong?"

The question caught him off guard. How could he explain it? The sudden awkwardness, the halting awareness of her body in their physical space.

She grinned at him. "You're embarrassed."

"What?"

She trotted over, then wrapped her arms around him. "I can tell, you're really embarrassed."

Madara glared. Hashi giggled, kissing him.

The way back to Konoha would be at least a day's trek, and Hashi and Madara stood, looking out at the craggy landscape of a forest that had been leveled and razed flat. Madara strapped his battle fan across his back while Hashi hitched up her weapons scroll, which was almost the same length as her body and just as heavy and wide, but Madara glanced down at her, and wordlessly took it from her.


	33. Valley

"Has this river always been here?" Tobirama asks. Beside him, Hashi shakes her head.

"I think that happened after Madara tossed that boulder," Hashi says, and she points to what looks like a broken-off piece of cliffside that Madara somehow hurled at her during their battle.

The landscape of the Valley is completely changed. What was once lush and green and verdant is now a long stretch of craggy rock cut in half by a river that was formed from the tracks of an errant boulder.

They are looking to expand the village, possibly adding settlements here. There used to be forests, tall trees, and wild animals, but since that fateful battle, everything is already leveled. "Half the work has already been completed," Tobirama said to the council, and the other members agreed to it.

"What happened here?" Tobirama asks, seeing the gouged-out crater that created a perilously deep cliff. Hashi looks.

"I think I did that with my Mokuton," Hashi says. "See those trees there?"

"Yes?"

"When I grew them, they made that hole over there," Hashi says, and Tobirama imagines the earth splitting violently, the trunks of trees surging out from beneath the smoke and fire and storm clouds. He rubs his head, frowning.

The sun is high in the sky, and Tobirama and his sister break for lunch. He unwraps a few rice balls from his pack and hands them to Hashi, sharing a canteen of water to drink. "So Madara has the Rinnegan," Tobirama says, after a long moment. Hashi nods.

"He's still trying to figure out how to use it."

"You mean that self-important jackass doesn't already know the jutsus associated with it?"

"It's just like when I first awakened the Mokuton, Little Brother. I had to teach myself." Hashi takes a swig of water. "Also, that jackass is my husband, so you know, watch it."

"Ugh, Sister. Do not remind me."

There's a warm silence. They eat and put away their things, when Hashi stands suddenly and points.

"There's our cave!" Hashi says.

"Your what?" Tobirama says.

"Our cave. We rested here after our battle."

Tobirama eyes her warily. "You rested. Meaning you both ran out of chakra and had a temporary cessation of hostilities."

"Something like that."

Tobirama exhales loudly. "Sister did you have carnal knowledge of Uchiha Madara in that cave?"

Hashi laughs. "Little Brother! That's not something you ask a lady!"

"The last time I checked, Sister, you are hardly a lady."

"You know who is a lady, though?"

"Who?"

"Uzumaki Mito."

"Dammit, Sister--"

And Hashi laughs, taking another swig of water.


	34. A Fight

She has fallen asleep on top of him at an uncomfortable position, and with difficulty, Madara lifts his chin above Hashi's head and readjusts her weight. She exhales softly, and he feels her stir with the movement. Her breathing deepens. He feels her lips graze against the exposed skin of his collarbone.

He relishes these quiet nights. Even in her sleep, Hashi keeps touching him. An arm drapes carelessly across his chest; her fingers tracing along the line of his neck and sternum. The feel of her leg curling across his hip. There's a small smile on her lips and from the way she moves, he knows she's awake, just resting against him with her eyes closed.

"It is a shame," Madara says softly, as he shifts Hashi against his chest, letting his lips brush against her forehead, "it is a shame there's no way we can fight each other in earnest. I would love to see how I would fare against you with my Rinnegan."

She nuzzles sleepily against his neck. "You'd probably beat me," she says.

"As much as I'd like to think I would, my stamina is nowhere near yours. I would have to best you quickly before depleting my chakra reserves."

He strokes her hair, thoughtfully. "The only way we could fight to our fullest capabilities would be if we were fighting to the death. We would have to try to kill each other in order to face each other properly."

"Mm."

"It is a shame," Madara says again, shifting her close. "I think if there were a way to battle without hurting you, I would enjoy doing so immensely."

"Mm hmm."

"You are the only one worthy enough to face me. I almost wish that we were still enemies."

She softly kisses the side of his neck. He settles her against his chest.

The night is quiet. She feels warm and good against him, and he starts to drift off, when she murmurs quietly, "I'm glad that we're not enemies."

His arms tighten around in her in answer.

*****

When Hashi finally gets back from the Valley, it's late and Madara is already asleep. She checks on their daughter, washes, then pads softly into the bedroom where Madara's body is curled up on the futon, beneath the covers.

Hashi smiles. Unlike her, who sleeps messily and rolls around the bed, often waking up on her back with her arms and legs splayed out like a starfish (sometimes smacking Madara in the face in the process), Madara always seems to sleep in the same position, never taking up any more space than he needs. She kneels and crawls under the covers, curling up against his body and pushing his hair back so that she can press her face against his back. He feels warm and solid and absently she lets her arm drape against the side of his ribs and the muscles of his stomach. She nuzzles between his shoulderblades and presses a kiss against his spine.

She feels him shift. She knows he's slowly blinking awake by the way his body tightens and hunches into itself, before he rolls over on his back and then onto his other side, facing her. Hashi smiles widely and snuggles up like a pillbug against his chest, and Madara answers by readjusting the covers, closing his eyes again. She doesn't want to sleep though, so she kisses him and crawls on top of him. He smiles and rolls her onto her back. They have sex, and it's loving and gentle, right before going to sleep.

*****

For the first time, the rumors in the village are not about her; they're about her brother.

"They say he's digging up graves," the villagers whisper, and Hashi frowns and furrows her head, before going back the Hokage compound.

He probably isn't digging up graves, that would be weird and pointless. He's probably trying to plant crops and pulling up weeds, and the villagers of course rounded it up to something more gruesome.

"I was hoping you wouldn't find out." Tobirama sighs, then shows her.

They go into the forest. He claps his hands, and all at once a stone coffin emerges from the ground. Hashi's eyes widen as the coffin door opens and the desiccated body of a dead horse slowly lurches upright.

"Edo Tensei," Tobirama says. "It's a jutsu to bring back the dead."

He takes a kunai with a tag and seal written on it, then pushes it into the back of the horse's neck. The horse whinnies, rearing its head.

Hashi's eyes widen. "Tobirama what is this?"

"It is exactly what you see, Sister. I've brought this horse back from the dead."

Hashi sucks in a breath. Tobirama pats the horse's head, then offers it an apple, which the horse takes, nuzzling its head against Tobirama's hand. The sclerae of its eyes are black; fine cracks seem to form across its grayish skin.

"Have you brought back people?" Hashi asks. Tobirama nods. "Who?!"

"I spoke with Senju Rei not a fortnite ago, as well as Senju Kiritsugu."

"They died years ago." Hashi stares at him. "Where are they now? Weren't they angry you brought them back?"

"They were confused, and not as powerful as they were when they were living." Tobirama strokes the horse's mane, thoughtfully. "They also didn't last much longer than sunrise."

Hashi's mouth tightens. "Little Brother, it's unnatural. You shouldn't be messing with the dead."

"And if I could bring back Itama and Father and Kawarama? Or any of our fallen kinsmen? I've been working on this jutsu for years, Sister, and it's finally starting to bear fruit."

Tobirama gives the horse another apple, which the horse takes happily.

"So then the rumors are true? You're going out in the middle of the night and robbing graves?"

"I don't steal them," Tobirama says. "All I do is add a seal to cast my summoning jutsu, then place its counterpart on the scroll. My hope is one day to resurrect anyone who falls in the field of battle, but these times of peace, there are no more fresh bodies, only those of the infirm and elderly. I can only imagine how well this jutsu would work on someone newly dead."

Hashi crosses her arms. "Little Brother, quite frankly, I'm a little offended at how you kept harping at Madara, when all this time you were digging up dead bodies and messing with forbidden jutsus."

*****

"Back from the dead?" Madara looks up sharply.

Hashi holds her head. "He's been dabbling in forbidden jutsu for the past five years and I only just now found out."

"Has he been successful?"

"Apparently he's risen a couple dozen fallen Senju and had pleasant conversations with them."

"So then," he hesitates, "could your brother bring back Izuna?"

Hashi looks up. Madara is standing in front of the shrine, his back facing her.

"I think he needs a body," Hashi says. "Don't your people cremate them?"

Madara turns. "What if I were to give your brother Izuna's eyes?"

Hashi sucks in a breath. Madara is looking at her steadily. There isn't a flicker of emotion at all on his face.

Hashi shakes her head. "Don't be stupid, if you do that you'll be blind."

"But is it possible?"

"I don't know! I was telling you this because I thought it was stupid, I can't believe you're actually talking about blinding yourself to bring back Izuna, you don't even know if it'd work."

"I would give anything to have my little brother back," Madara says. "These eyes were his, my sensing abilities are such that it's almost like seeing, it wouldn't be much of a sacrifice."

"What about our daughter?"

"What about her?"

"I thought you were going to save your eyes in case she goes blind?" Hashi puts her hands on her hips, frowning at him.

Madara looks away again. Hashi huffs, exasperated.

"Fine," Hashi says. She strides over toward him and presses a firm hand against his shoulder, turning him so that he's facing her. "If we're doing this, we're using only one eye, and I'll be the one to remove it. It's not like taking out someone else's eye, if you did it to yourself, you might damage it. At the very least, if I do it, we can transplant it back in case it doesn't work."

"You'd do that for me?" Madara says. Hashi bangs her head.

"It's stupid and a terrible idea but you're going to do it anyway, Tobirama will just be excited about getting fresh body parts, he won't help you if things go sideways, so I might as well help and make it not as terrible."

*****

Tobirama, as expected, is gleeful.

"A fresh specimen!" Tobirama exclaims, and Hashi yells at him that he's being weird and creepy and what the hell, he better not mess up, Madara is her husband and she would _so_ kick his ass if he hurts him!

Behind her, Madara watches, a bandage over the wound in his socket.

The eye bobs obscenely in the jar of thin liquid, the tendrils of frayed nerves spread out like fine hairs. Carefully, Tobirama pours out the eye and places a small seal.

The incantation doesn't work. The eye is no longer in its original form, it has the rinnegan now, it's more Madara's than Izuna's.

Madara doesn't say anything. Silently they walk back to their house.

*****

"Obaasan, thank you so much for watching our baby," Hashi says, as the old woman smiles and hands their daughter back to her.

"Of course," the old woman says. "I am honored to watch the child of Senju Hashirama. And she is such a sweet child," the old woman says, tickling the baby's cheeks, and the baby giggles.

Madara's eye is still sensitive from where Hashi retransplanted it. The whites of his sclerae are injected with lacy red lines, while the eye itself is tearing up from the irritation. Hashi glances up at him, then looks back down at the baby, hitching her against her shoulder and resting the baby's weight atop her forearm.

"Are you okay?" she asks. Madara doesn't look at her.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

Hashi watches as he takes off his shoes, then walks silently into their bedroom.

She puts the baby down, then walks into their bedroom, where Madara is curled up, his back facing toward her, staring in the darkness at the wall.

"Do you want to be alone?" she asks, after a long moment. He doesn't answer, so she goes to the closet and pulls out an extra blanket, intending to sleep in the common area outside. She opens the door quietly when she hears Madara speak softly.

"You can stay if you want to," he says. Hashi sets the blanket down and crawls into the futon next to him.

There is a space between their bodies. Tentatively, she presses a hand to his back, before hesitantly moving against him.

He pulls her hand across his chest, and she settles against him fully, resting her cheek against his shoulderblades.

"I never got to avenge him," Madara says. He looks out into the darkness. "It was his dying wish, and I've failed him."

Hashi gives him a little squeeze. He pulls her arm closer around him.

"I thought, if I could talk to him...if I could explain my actions....maybe he would forgive me for failing him."

"What would it take to avenge him?" Hashi says. Madara takes a breath.

"To raze the village and kill your brother, I think. And to eradicate all the Senju."

Hashi is quiet. She gently fans her thumb across his chest.

He falls into a worse depression. Hashi watches as Madara stares silently for hours at Izuna's shrine, unmoving and not speaking. At night, when their daughter crawls up to him, lifting her chubby hands to his face, he doesn't look at her, just picks her up, but otherwise doesn't acknowledge her.

"Anata," she says, and she looks up at him. "Are you happy?"

He glances back at her, distracted. "What?"

She lowers her eyes, then asks again. "Are you happy?"

He doesn't look at her. "No."

"What about our daughter? She doesn't make you happy?"

The smoke curls. He doesn't look at her.

"I would give anything to have Izuna back."

She takes in a breath. He doesn't meet her eyes.

*****

Weeks pass. She comes to a decision.

"Battle me," Hashi says. Madara takes a step back.

"What?"

Hashi looks up at him, determined. "You never got to avenge your brother," Hashi says. "I'm saying you should battle me."

Madara stares, then gets a hold of himself. He scoffs, scowling. "You are not the one who killed my brother."

"Yes, but if you were to battle Tobirama, you'd kill him easily. Battle me instead," Hashi says. Madara stares at her.

"What are you saying?" he asks.

"I'm saying we should battle to the death."

Madara takes a step back. Hashi smiles.

"I was ready to sacrifice my life for the dream of our village. That means nothing if I can't do the same for you."

Madara sucks in his breath. Hashi continues.

"I know if you kill me, you'll be there to raise our daughter. Tobirama is already leading our village. If I die now, I'll have no regrets."

"Woman, I cannot battle you, you're my wife, I can't--"

"We all die," Hashi says. She steps forward, placing her hands on his chest. "I love you. It hurts me to see you like this. If my death can give you a modicum of peace, then it's worth it."

Madara's jaw tightens. "It won't be a fair fight unless you try to kill me, too."

Hashi nods, quietly. "I know," she says.

*****

"Going out again?" the old woman says, as Hashi hands her their daughter.

"It might be a few days, obaasan. Are you sure it's okay to watch her?" Hashi says. The old woman smiles.

"I am happy to," the old woman says. She shifts her focus to Madara, who's standing behind her. "You two deserve time alone together."

Madara's jaw tightens. Quietly, Hashi kneels down, looking at their daughter.

"May I hug her one more time?" Hashi says, and the old woman hands the baby back to her.

Hashi hugs the baby, tight. "Be good for your papa," Hashi says softly. She kisses the baby's forehead. The baby gurgles, reaching out for Hashi's hair. "I'll miss you."

Madara inhales, sharply. Hashi stands, bowing her head.

They meet at dusk at the valley of the end. She is wearing her armor, her weapons scroll strapped to her back. Silently Madara unties the knot holding his battle fan. They stand apart from each other, then take a stance.

In the distance, there is the sound like crashing thunder coming from the valley. Bright flashes of light, the blue hued haze of something flashing and receding. The village sentries look out at their posts, wondering.

She's left a letter for Tobirama at the Hokage compound.

*****

Everything is quiet. In the darkness, there is nothing but the glint of a sword reflecting from the dull moonlight above them. Madara is on his knees, the edge of his blade against Hashi's neck. His chakra is depleted and his eyes are once again black. They're both exhausted and breathing heavily.

"You won," Hashi says, and Madara's face crumbles. Rain starts to fall as he tosses aside his sword.

*****

"Back already?" the old woman says, and Hashi stretches out her arms to take her daughter.

Madara watches. He stands in the shadows as Hashi brings the child close to her chest, hugging her and kissing her forehead. "My sweet girl," Hashi says. She has never looked as vulnerable as this. Hair falling over her face, her small hands gently stroking their child. _His child_ , Madara thinks, and his chest tightens with the realization.

Hashi once told him how hard it was, growing up without a mother. And selfishly, he almost took her away from his daughter. He watches, heart in his throat, as his wife holds their baby in her arms, tenderly rocking her before setting her in the crib. Her head is bowed and a lock of long hair falls in front of her, before tucking it back behind her ear.

This is his wife. This is his daughter. These are the two people he's supposed to protect. He's never felt more ashamed.

He follows her silently into the bedroom. Wordlessly she changes into the thin yukata she wears when she's sleeping, and he can see the thousand small cuts and shallow scratches marring the skin of her body.

"It's okay," she says. Her back is still to him. She pulls the robe over her shoulder. "Don't feel guilty. I asked you to."

Madara takes in a breath. The woman always seems to know what he's thinking. He wants to apologize but he can't find the words.

"Hashirama--"

She hunches over, and he realizes she is crying. He sees her raise a shaky hand to her eyes. "I'm sorry," she sobs, and he rushes over to her, pulling her against his chest. She sobs brokenly and he holds her, hating himself for hurting her.

"I know you love me." She sniffs and clutches the sleeve around his bicep. "I know you do, it's just..." she takes in a shuddery breath. "You've never once told me you do."

"What? Of course I have, what are you--"

"I asked you if you loved me once, and you said yes. And that was it," Hashi says, and Madara realizes it's true.

"I'm sorry," Hashi says again. "I don't mean to put you on the spot, you show me you love me in other ways, I don't need to hear it--"

"I love you," he says. He presses a firm hand against the back of her head. "I'm an idiot. I'm sorry for never telling you."

She sobs harder, burying her head against his chest.

They go to bed. They hold each other for a long time, Madara shifting every so often to kiss her eyes or forehead. She burrows against him, and he feels guilty at how he only feels whole the instant she wraps her arms around him.

For the first time in their marriage, she leaves before he wakes. He sits up at the center of the futon, looking out at the soft yellow glow of morning sunlight. Her side of the bed is empty and cold.

*****

Tobirama walks quickly toward the Uchiha quarter, where Madara sometimes lurks when he's not skulking around his sister.

"There you are," Tobirama says, seeing Madara standing in the shadows like some sort of ghoul. "I've been going over the formulas for the reanimation jutsu, and I've made some adjustments, I think it's still possible to resurrect your brother--

"What," Tobirama rears back, looking at him. "You look terrible. You look worse than you usually do." His gaze shifts. "What the hell is that?" Tobirama says, when he sees Madara is standing with a heavy pack, his battle fan resting next to it. "Where the hell are you going? I don't remember authorizing any missions."

Madara narrows his eyes at him. "It is just my luck I'd run into you," Madara says. He hitches the pack over his shoulder. "I might as well tell you: I'm leaving your sister."

"What?"

He looks out across the village. "Be assured, I have no desire to raze this place. Not so long as it's home to my daughter."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Tobirama says. Madara looks down at him, arrogantly.

"I no longer wish to take part in this failed experiment you call a village," Madara says. A shadow falls over his eyes. "Your sister is troublesome and I have no use for her."

Tobirama grabs Madara by the collar, slamming him against the wall.

"Do you plan to stop me?" Madara says. He smiles, slowly. "I am stronger than you. It would not be much for me to kill you where you stand."

"If you want to leave my sister, fine. I hate that she married you in the first place." Tobirama lets go of him. His eyes narrow. "What happened?"

"It is none of your concern."

"She is my sister. It is my concern."

The muscles of Madara's neck are tight. Battle ready. His hands are clenched into fists. He sees Madara's jaw tighten, his hair falling over his face, covering his eyes.

"We battled. I ran out of chakra, and she gave up. She let me put my blade to her neck and waited for me to kill her."

Tobirama sucks in his breath. Madara doesn't look at him.

"She still had plenty of chakra, she could have done any jutsu she wanted to. She could have thrown me off or taken my sword, or..." he closes his eyes. "She was going to let me kill her."

"Then what happened?"

"She looked up at me, and said I won."

Tobirama rubs his head.

He starts to walk away. Madara stares at him. "Where are you going?" Madara says.

"I'm going to get a drink, because my sister is an idiot and so is my fucking brother-in-law."

*****

When he comes home, he sees Hashi sitting at the table, feeding their baby.

"Anata, guess what?" Hashi says. She's smiling at the baby. "She likes inari, just like you do." The baby is holding two fistfuls of fried tofu and rice. The baby holds it up to Hashi. "Oh? You wanna feed mommy?" The baby pushes her little hand in Hashi's face. Hashi beams widely at her. "Okay, okay, feed mommy. Ahhh," she says, and she opens her mouth. The baby pushes a grubby ball of rice into Hashi's mouth, which Hashi chews with exaggerated excitement. "Yummy! So good, baby! Thank you."

Madara lingers at the doorway. "Where were you this morning?" he asks. Hashi keeps looking at the baby.

"I couldn't sleep." She wipes the baby's face. "I took the baby for a walk." She glances behind her shoulder, and both their eyes fall on the traveling pack and battle fan sitting on the floor.

"I changed my mind," Madara says, before Hashi can say anything. She smiles at him, hesitantly.

He sits. He looks at the plate of inari, they're his favorite food, he wonders if Hashi made them for him. "How are your wounds?" he asks instead. Hashi keeps her eyes trained on the baby.

"Oh, they've already healed."

"The bruise on your side, is it better?"

"Pretty much," Hashi says. She smiles at him. Madara looks at her, helplessly.

"I'm sorry about last night," he says. He lowers his eyes. "About everything."

Hashi pats his arm. "It's okay," she says. She pushes the plate toward him. "Here. I made these for you."

"Thank you. These are my favorite."

"I know."

He picks up the little tofu pocket, then starts to cry.

"Anata?" Hashi rushes over and hugs him. The baby watches them curiously, her cheeks filled with rice.

He pulls away and Hashi smiles up at him, wiping his cheeks. "Don't do that, you'll make me cry too," Hashi says. She presses her forehead against his.

"You were going to let me kill you," he says.

"You didn't, though."

"You still had chakra, you could have dealt a killing blow."

"You're my husband, I didn't want to."

Madara takes a shaky breath. "Even with the power of the Sage of the Six Paths," Madara says. "You still bested me. You're the most powerful shinobi alive."

"You're still going on about that?" Hashi fondly strokes back his hair.

The baby whines, her chubby hands flapping toward the plate. They both turn to look at her.

"I think she wants more rice," Hashi says, and she moves to feed her.


	35. Rapprochement (explicit)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rough sex, cunnilingus

Her hand hits the edge of the tatami mat, palm-side down having slipped off the damp sheets of the futon. She's settled on his lap, pushing down on his chest, the heel of one hand pressed into the floor for balance.

She gasps with each glide up and harsh push down, mouth slack and face pleasured and red. He lifts his head to mouth at her neck and she wraps her arms around his shoulders, grasping for purchase. Breathless, she feels full with his cock, pressed at just the right angle inside her, and she chokes back a moan as she pistons herself over him, her movements clumsy and erratic. His hands dig roughly into her hips with each harsh thrust upward, and her head hangs over his chest, hair swinging and listing sideways.

She's close, she's so close, she grinds down harshly and tries to get to that spot, mouth hanging open, breathing harder. Without thinking, she slips her hand between their bodies, the pads of her fingers rubbing over the swollen nub of her sex. She pumps and grinds her fingers against herself, until Madara pushes upward and bats her hand away.

Her eyes pop open, and all at once, she's shoved onto her back, the sudden change in position making her dizzy. He kisses her hard, breathing sharply through his nose, before pulling out abruptly. Her eyes crack open, and in the dim light she sees his erection stiff and glistening as he roughly pushes her legs open, wrapping his arms around her hips and pressing his hot mouth against her nub.

She shrieks. The sensation is sharp, pleasure bordering just on the edge of pain, and she's so aroused it just takes one hard suck before she comes undone, gasping with sobbing moans as harsh spikes of pleasure knife through her.

She falls back, boneless and pliant, breasts heaving as she pants. Dimly, she feels the blunt head of his cock pressing urgently against her, into her, sliding in with one harsh stroke. He hitches her legs on either side of him and drives her down into the futon, thrusting hard and fast with a desperate violence she'd only seen in battle.

She screams, clutching at his back, helpless against the pleasure edging on pain: the weight of his body ramming mercilessly against hers, her whole body taut and straining, curving upward like a pulled-back bow.

*****

They kiss softly, sleep-warm and sated. She feels him smiling against her neck.

And then it occurs to her: "I think I'm ovulating around this time."

Madara lifts his head. Hashi turns on their pillow to face him. He furrows his brow.

"Are you sure?" he asks. "You haven't been regular since you've stopped breastfeeding--"

"No, no, I've been regular the last few months, I'm pretty sure I'm ovulating." She bites her lip, smiling at him. "Wouldn't it be funny if I got pregnant?"

He frowns. "Why would that be funny?"

"Because I'm pretty sure I got pregnant back in that cave. You know, both times, after a battle to the death--"

Madara groans.

"--no listen, we can tell our kids how I get pregnant whenever you try to kill me--"

"Can we not joke about this? I already told you I regret it."

She snorts and laughs into his neck. "I'm sorry," she says, laughing. "You look so upset right now."

"I am upset. What are you even saying?"

Her eyes are soft. She smiles at him. "I'm glad you didn't leave."


	36. The Most Powerful Shinobi

The rumors careen across the village: that Senju Hashirama, finally seizing her chance to be rid of Madara, tried to kill him at the Valley of the End, but was overcome by the power of his Rinnegan.

The elders speak in fearful whispers. "Uchiha Madara is the most powerful shinobi alive."

It irritates Tobirama: his sister is too thick-headed to appreciate the fact that her lunatic husband has permanently besmirched her reputation. "Sister! The only reason why that malcontent is alive is because you felt sorry for him. Why will you not say anything?"

Hashi rubs her belly. "I guess I don't really care that much about it."

"Sister!"

She smiles. "I mean, he knows I'm stronger than him. Why should it matter what other people think?"

Madara is little better. "Why are you bothering me?" Madara says. Tobirama glares.

"Because people are saying my sister is weaker than you."

"She is."

"Teme--"

Madara sniffs. "Compassion is a weakness the Senju carry in spades," Madara says. "Present company not included."

Tobirama furrows his brow, because that's not really an insult.

"You're just weak because of your constitution."

Tobirama bangs his head against the wall.


	37. Legend (end)

The story of the Founders of Konoha goes like this: that a Senju woman created life out of chakra, and an Uchiha man brought with him only death.

No one knows much about them; few documents exist about that time. After their children were grown, it is said that Uchiha Madara was struck with a roving wanderlust. He desired to reach the end of the world, and to keep him in check, Senju Hashirama followed him.

"They disappeared," the Uchiha captain says, who has lived an unnaturally long life and who is one of the few people said to have met them.

It is a story about a ghost, about a specter haunting the village.

"No," the Uchiha captain says. His milky eyes lift upward.

"This is a story about love."


End file.
